


Horseshoes and Hand Grenades

by Vroomian



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Basketball, Depression, Drama, F/F, F/M, Horny Teenagers, M/M, Misunderstandings, OC, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, POV Second Person, Photography, Polyamory, Sibling Relationship, Slow Burn, Teen Crush, Teen Romance, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, but not for the reason you think, so much drama, the gay is strong with this one, updates every other Monday
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2018-09-19 20:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 93,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9458783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vroomian/pseuds/Vroomian
Summary: You don't care about sports, and you didn't ask for this nonsense.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> edited 2/1/2017

Fact: Everyone dies.

You are not the exception.

-

You're born again next to the house of a fictional character and you're expected to be friends with him, because your mothers are friends and your fathers are friends and you were born within a week of each other. His name is Kise Ryouta and he is annoying. He cries at the slightest sound. You were enjoying your non existence and then this came along, and you had to deal with screaming children?

You are not pleased with this reality shift and you make this known. Your parents don't get much sleep in the first few months.

The new you is plain. Black hair, dark eyes, typical Japanese features. You give your reflection one look over, deem it suitable and forget about it.

Kise Ryouta has eyes like molten gold and his mother's hair and the attachment issues of an abandoned puppy. He trails after you all the first days of kindergarten, clutching your weird smock thing. You don't actually care because at least he's not crying about something. Until the girls in your class start falling over themselves to play with him. They jostle you out of the group, leaving an overwhelmed looking Kise in the middle of it.

He looks at you, pleading with his pretty eyes.

Yeah, no.

You leave him there with a disinterested glance. If he wanted out, he was going to have to do it himself.

-

 

Before you died, life was normal.

Birth, school, college. You worked the same boring desk job until you died. All your tragedies were small, and equaled by joys. Passion was a foreign word. You existed, and that was enough. Coasting along like a feather on the breeze. Nothing touched you.

You receive a camera for your sixth birthday from one of your many aunts. It's bright pink and plastic and obviously for kids - but it works. It has film.

You fall in love the first time you look through the lens. The first time you develop a photo. The first time you capture an emotion in two dimensions. It's like seeing in color after a lifetime of grey.

You love the click of the shutter. Effortlessly finding beauty in the mundane, plays of light and shadow, that perfect moment where something deeper than words flits like a bird and you can only capture it if you have the skill, if you're lucky enough, if only you dare, if only you look.

The world is worth paying attention to, for the first time.

With your apathy melting away, it begins to dawn on your parents: you are not smart. You're a genius. Even beyond the "twenty-seven year old mind" in the body, things that would've taken months to learn in your old body take only days or hours. The only one in your class who can keep up most of the time is Kise. You're including your teacher. Everything is easier.

Your new mom and dad want a doctor, a lawyer, a politician. They speak of bright futures and special education. You're smart and they know that. Cram schools, tutors, grades, prestige.

They mean well.

Unfortunately for them, you already have a plan.

You're going to be a photographer.

It's like a fire has been lit on the inside of you. You hope it never goes out; you were so cold before.

-

 

You win first prize in an annual competition before your seventh birthday.

Improving your skills is your one passion, and you pour everything into it. Classes about light and framing, rock climbing to get into hard to reach areas, mechanics for repair, setting up a blog so you can share your work and receive critiques.

Time flies by. You graduate from Kindergarten along with Kise. The shelf your parents keep is filling up with trophies and ribbons and certificates. If it makes them happy, that's fine. They're nice, but you don't need them. The pictures themselves are their own reward.

In the evenings after elementary school is over, Kise walks home with you, blabbering about his day. He still clings, but you tolerate it more now. You live next door to each other. He follows you inside when his sisters are gone and his parents are busy.

"I wish I knew what I wanted to do," Kise says, nine years old and filled with worldly ennui, clutching a stuffed animal to his chest. You don't know where he got it. You don't own any stuffed animals. He's joined three clubs this month, and quit them just as quickly. "You're so lucky, Hanacchi." There's a trace of real frustration to his voice.

You glance at the bag spilled over your floor, each paper a halo of 100 marks, so dusted in gold stars it was it's own constellation.

Your own work is piled, untouched, somewhere under magazine offering a zoom lens that you really, really want.

Homework is boring.

"Don't mess up my bed," You say, going back to the kiddie camera. You can probably salvage something worth using if you take it apart.

He laughs. "So mean!"

 

-

 

Kise slams the door to your bedroom behind him, clothes rumpled and eyes wild. "I don't understand girls."

You catch a glimpse of him and grab for your camera. "Hold that pose," you say.

You bring up the camera and Kise, trained by now, freezes and his face slips into a slight smile and he looks through his lashes into the your lens, and with a click you capture a slice of time, forever.

Kise is beautiful. This is an empirical fact. The camera loves him and he loves it right back. Put him in the light and he glows, becomes a conduit, automatically the brightest thing in the room. He attracts eyes and hearts like moths circling a flame.

He's your favorite subject.

"What about girls?" You say, and bring the camera down. You know that it's probably insipid. It always is, with Kise. You listen anyway.

Friendship is about compromises.

He unfreezes, and lets his bag spill onto the floor again. Papers went everywhere. "Seriously, they're scary. They swarmed me outside the gates. I didn't think I'd survive!"

Oh, his 'fanclub'.

"Tell them to get lost." You say, losing interest. Kise's got a way of making problems so much then bigger then they need to be. He had sparkles and cynicism where everyone else had common sense.

He flops onto your bed again. "I'd hurt their feelings. They cry and then I have to deal with them, and I get treated like the bad guy."

"So?"

"That's mean, Hanacchi."

"Get a girlfriend then. A second target should distract them long enough to get out of the way." You kick him in the side. "Pick up your bag. I'm not your mother and I'm not cleaning up after you."

Kise didn't move. He stared up at the ceiling. "...Would that work? A girlfriend?"

"It's worth a try."

In hindsight, you should have thought more about the words coming out of your mouth. No, you forgot one crucial thing.

Kise has no common sense.

 

-

 

You regret everything.

"Hell no." You say, packing as much disdain as you could into the words. Your textbook lays open before you, forgotten. Your grades were slipping a little too close to 'flunk' for your mother's taste.

So. At least pretending to study. In reality, you're failing to fix a camera. After going through school one time already, you know that none of the homework is important. It's hard to muster any interest in school.

"Wow, actual emotion. I mean -please, Hanacchi! You're my only hope! Anyone else would get scared off by the fan-girls or try to kiss me! Please be my fake girlfriend." Kise begged from dogeza.

You stare makes plain what you think about his reasons. "No way. Too much of a pain."

"It was your idea!"

"Yeah, but that was when it didn't involve me."

"Hanacchi is so cold." He whined, clinging to my leg.

You shrug and turn back to your poor battered camera. It's go a cracked lense and you think, a little sad, that it's going to be done pretty soon. This one was a beauty, real craftsmanship. Your dad would be reluctant to pay for a new one, with the grades you've been bringing in. Which is why you're 'studying' in the first place.

Kise settles himself over your shoulder. "I can buy you a new camera."

You pause.

Like a shark after blood, Kise is on the hesitation. "Please, Hanacchi, you won't have to do anything. Just ignore whatever anyone tells you. Nothing has to change - I already spend so much time with you, nobody will expect anything else."

You glance at the broken camera with a resentful scowl. Ugh. "Fine," you say, already resigned to the stupidity that would ensue.

Kise let out a whoop and pumped his hand into the air. "You're the best, Hanacchi!"

"Whatever. It's your wallet's funeral, not mine."

"...I don't like how you said that. Hanacchi? Hanacchi, what did you mean by that- why are you smiling like that. Hanacchi."

-


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=opGJR_dBEvY 
> 
> Kise and Hana friendship theme song

  
  


#  Chapter 2

  
  


-

  
  


"You two are… close today." One of Kisses admirers said, glancing at Kise’s arm around your shoulders. You knew her name, but you forgot it immediately. 

 

"We  _ are _ dating." Kise said, careless as a politician dropping a bomb.

 

It had the _ effect  _ of a bomb going off. A horrified silence, people staring, sheer incomprehension - and then the shockwave hits. People started shouting and the girl’s from Kise fan club - all of them basically - shrieking and crying. The girl in front of you looked like she's been clubbed over the head and told her dog died at the same time. Dazed and devastated. 

 

"You're dating." She said like a woman reaching for safety and being denied at the last minute. “You and  _ her _ . Her!”

 

“I knew it!” Someone shouted.

 

Kise laughed and it wasn’t a happy sound. “Yeah, her! You got a problem with that?” 

 

You roll your eyes and put in your headphones, jack the volume all the way up and proceed to ignore the entire class until the teacher arrived to take care of it. 

 

When the rumor of the two of you dating spreads through the school, it lasts for far too long for your taste -- which is to say for longer than the five minuets you found it noteworthy. 

 

Dating Kise is the exact same thing as not dating him was; the only change is you hold hands sometimes and refer to each other by first names, which Kise already did and your formerly american soul doesn't care about. 

 

He's still clingy. You still hang out for hours without saying anything or playing whatever sport Kise’s doing. You learn a lot more about baseball and archery and soccer or whatever than you wanted to know. Your parents are weirdly unsurprised. 

 

Honestly, the only thing that really annoyed you about the arrangement are the fanclub. 

 

You knew about their existence, the same way you're aware of one of your parents annoying friends. Distant but not really your problem. 

 

Unfortunately, Kise has  _ made _ them your problem. 

 

You said to give them a second target -- and you were absolutely right. 

 

-

 

You find tacks in your shoes. Funerary Flowers on your desk. Tripped in the hallways. Your bag upended in the fountain you didn't even know the school had. 

 

Blank faced you look at the remains of book report you finished yesterday, floating forlorn on top of the water. It took about ten minutes, sure, but you're kinda pissed off that you have to spend more time redoing it. 

 

At least your camera is fine. You don't bring your good one to school, but you do keep a little digital one hanging around your neck. You study the terrain and the fountain again. Your fingers itch. 

 

Maybe a higher point of view shot? 

 

You're already halfway down the tree, pictures taken, when Kise finds you. It's not a surprise - the two of you walk together at night and it's about an hour past that time. 

 

He looks up at you. "Climbing trees again? One of these days you're going to fall and your mom is going to blame me."

 

"Not my problem," you say with a shrug. You drop the last five feet and land in a crouch. 

 

He rolls his eyes. "What caught your interest now?"

 

You walk to the fountain and fish out one of the textbooks. Math, ew. Temptation to drop it back in stifled, you lay it on the side of the fountain. 

 

"Whoa. Did you drop your bag in the fountain?"

 

" _ I _ didn't, no."

 

Kise wasn't stupid. His mouth went flat and hard. "The fanclub, Hannacchi?"

 

You pause in taking off your shoes and socks to give him a look. The fanclub is always going on about how sensitive and kind he is - and they must be blind. Kise is cold, Kise is proud, and Kise doesn’t care about anyone outside his family or yours. You would rather date a live alligator for real than him.

 

Fortunately, your skin is thick and you know you’re not a nice person. It’s why you get along so well. "Don't ask stupid questions." You say and step into the water with a hiss. It's march and the water is colder than ice. Wading out to your bag, you collect stuff as you go. 

 

Kise lets out a breath and you hear a rustle of cloth and then a splash of water. 

 

You glance over your shoulder to see him bent over and grabbing a book from the water. He wades over the you and hands it over. History. You put it next to the math book. "Thanks."

 

Kise doesn’t apologize, because he knows you, knows how you think. Knows enough to see that this is expected and you don’t blame

him for their actions. "How long has this been going on?"

 

"A week or so." This is the first sign of escalation, the first something that's more of a threat than an annoyance. Finally. You were going to be fine. It would take more than this to make a scratch on you.

 

"What do you want to do?"

 

You tap the camera around your neck. "Already done. You are shocked and appalled by their actions, by the way. Bullies are the scum of the earth and you hate them more than anything." That would hurt them more than anything.

 

Setting up a shot of them taking your bag out of it’s desk. Following the girls here, getting shots of all their faces, finding names and classes - it was easy. Tomorrow their photos would be plastered around the school, along with the pictures showing them throwing your bag in the water. With Kise backing it up, there wouldn't be a single person who didn’t believe. You recorded the whole thing just to be safe.

 

_ Don’t get mad.  _

 

_ Get even. _

 

You will not die with regrets. Not again.

 

"Of course," Kise said. 

 

You both shared a smile. It wasn’t a nice one.

  
  


-

  
  
  


The pictures go up around school, and the bullying stops. The school is buzzing with the question: who are the girls in the pictures? Their faces are never quite in view - in those photos. 

 

Except for the ones that each of those girls found in their lockers.  _ Those _ are perfectly clear. 

 

Of course that’s on purpose. What are you, an amateur?

 

It’s not the end, of course.

 

You’re not surprised when the group of girls attempt to corner you in the library alone, because Kise is over with the baseball club. You rest your head in your hands. "Can I help you?" 

 

You recognize the girl from the photos. The ringleader Makoto something or other, daughter of some big shot lawyer. She goes red, and her face twists in a sneer that would be intimidating on someone who wasn’t twelve and stick thin. "You’re the one who spread those photos around! Because of you Kise-kun thinks - thinks I’m some sort of bully.’

 

Kise? He’d laugh. “You _ are _ a bully.”

 

The girls behind Makoto shift. You weren't following the script of unpopular girl being ganged up on. Logic wasn’t supposed to make an appearance. You know what you looked like - delicate, tiny, younger - you were supposed to shy away from the popular girl, cringing in meek embarrassment over your supposed  _ unworthiness _ . 

 

"What does he see in you?" The words looked like they tore themselves out of her mouth. She went even redder - but his eyes were suspiciously shiny. "Huh? What's so great about some camera carrying freak? I tried to ask him out and he brushes me off!  What am I doing wrong?  _ Why you? _ I spend so much time on my hair and makeup - and he won’t even look at me. What makes you so special?” Her tears began to fall for real and the lackeys made soothing noises and glared at you like you were the bad guy.

 

If this was a manga, you’d say some moving words. Something about the power of love and friendship, about looking on the inside for kindness. You’d bond over a shared love rivalry make friends out of a rival and she’d come away with a better outlook on life and everyone would win. 

 

This isn’t a manga and you don't  _ care _ .

 

You don’t forget and you don’t forgive, and you don’t want her as a friend. It’s not your job to make this spoiled brat feel better about herself. Kise is trouble enough for three people. You give her a bored look. "Do I look like your mother? Solve your own problems."

 

She flinched. 

 

One of the lackeys bristles. “You don’t have to be such a bitch! Why --”

 

“Did you know,” You say soft as silk. “That destruction of property is a crime? Like, say, a school bag. Very interesting reading.” You tap the book. It’s in english and you see them make the connection. “My mother is a lawyer; a pretty good one. Pressing charges would be - well, the school wouldn't like it. They’d want to clear it up.” 

 

If you wanted you could get them expelled. 

 

_ I’m not going to ruin your lives, but I could. _

 

Who wants to be associated with a bully? Maybe it would’ve bothered you once, but time is short and you only have a few decades until you die. You decided long ago to live as you wished, no matter how selfish it made you. 

 

“What do you want?” One of the girls says. 

 

“Go.  _ Away _ . You have no opinion on me. Leave Kise alone, because he’s not interested in you.” You say.

 

Makoto swallows and nods. “O-okay.” 

 

They leave, and you return to your book - it’s a fascinating look at some photography techniques that you’re going to have to try. You read on, already forgetting that entire conversation. 

  
  


-

  
  


They don't try to bully you again. Your life returns to peaceful and the girls in class shoot you frightened looks sometimes. Rumor spreads about Kise's terrifying girlfriend. 

 

His fanclub keeps their distance. 

 

Kise and you highfive. 

 

Mission accomplished.

  
  


-

 

One day during spring break, The eldest of Kise's’ sisters comes back from america to visit. Kasumi Kise was a model turned actress. You've seen her movies and you're not surprised. She's _ good _ . 

 

Kise bounces on his heels. It’s been more than a year since she was last home, even though she calls and skypes as much as she can. 

 

You can’t keep the smile off your face. You and Kise share an excited look. 

 

Kasumi is a  _ pleasure _ to photograph - as good as Kise! You missed having the three Kise siblings together. When you were little, they would humor you by dressing up and putting on pretend photoshoots, letting their weird neighbor girl boss them around with good humor. Nori, kise’s other sister, was working under your mother at her firm, so it wouldn't be the perfect setup, but it was still good. 

 

Photographs with the two of them are always popular. 

 

At the airport, Kasumi laughs and pulls you and Kise into a hug. "Hana, Ryouta! I missed you so much. How are things at school? How many competitions have you won?" 

 

Auntie - Kise's mother - clears her amused throat. "The two of them have finally started dating for real." 

 

Kasumi squealed and twirled around, dragging you and Kise within a cloud of sweet perfume. 

 

You laugh, a feeling like champagne fizzing inside of you when you finally break apart. Kise is red cheeked and grinning. “Kasu-nee, it’s good have you back. Smile!”

 

-

 

Kasumi is how you and Kise get your first modeling job. 

 

Kasumi sighed happily and collapsed on the floor, her long blonde hair spilling out like molten gold across the floor. "Honestly, America is amazing, but it's nice to be home again."

 

You just shrugged, not looking up from your magazine Kasumi brought for you. It's in english, but that wasn't much of a problem. You liked to keep yourself sharp with it. 

 

"Can you read that?" Kise asked with a perplexed look on his face.

 

You shrug again. "English is easy." Nothing makes any grammatical sense and every rule is more like a guideline then a rule. 

 

“Eh, you can read english, Hana-chan?" Kise's mother claps her hands. "As expected of our little prodigy."

 

Neither of them were in the country right now - Mom was overseas dealing with a shipment complication, and dad was somewhere over in switzerland going over one contract or another. After you entered elementary they started taking longer trips - never more than a few days. You stayed over with the Kises when that happened. It was like growing up with two sets of parents, honestly. Kise and his sisters stayed over at your house more than once when their own parents wanted a break. 

 

So you don't brush off Auntie. Instead you give her one of your rare, sincere smiles. She loves you, second only to your own parents. Maybe even equally. Her fridge has some of your earliest work on it. 

 

The oven alarm goes off and Auntie jumps up and heads for the kitchen. "That's the cake! Would you help me out with the dishes, dear?" 

 

KIse's father rolls his eyes and puts down his own book. "Of course, my love." 

 

She playfully pushes him, but her cheeks go red. 

 

You and Kise look at each other with grossed out looks. Grownups being lovey dovey, ew.

 

“Did you take these, Hana?” 

 

You look up to find Kasumi studying the wall of photos. It’s the same one that your parents had - auntie demanded copies. They put up the ones that you won the competitions with; there were about twenty or thirty now. More than half of them featured Kise. The wall at your house has all the ribbons displayed as well. “Yeah. Why?”

 

She tapped her finger on her full lips. “They're really good.”

 

Well… yes. “I  _ am _ good.” You say. 

 

That woke her up. She scuffed your hair with a laugh. “And so humble, too!” 

 

Kise laughed. “Hanacchi has never been humble.”

 

“Shut up, I’m exactly as humble as I need to be.” You don’t see the point in humility. You know your strengths, just like you know your weaknesses. None of it is news to you. 

 

Kasumi smiled again. “I think there’s someone that I want you to meet.”

  
  


-

 

Kasumi’s friend is a woman - pretty, beauty mark below her eye, maybe seventeen- clasps your hands to her bosom. "Hello, my name is Junko Shimada, I'm a huge fan!" Her grey eyes are nearly sparkling. 

 

You don't know what to do with that. You have fans? It seemed... odd. For once in your life you have no idea what to say. You glance at Kise. He shrugs. The both of you turn to look at Kasumi at the same time. 

 

She grins at you. “Junko-chan is a model, and she wants to do a shoot with the both of you! I already okayed it with the manager of a magazine I know. The theme is sexy royalty.”

 

You blink, and turn back to look at the woman again, looking through that imaginary else in your head. “A down angle shot, maybe.” You say under your breath. Circling around her, you bring your hands up in a frame. The best angle would be - you stop and crouch a bit. She’s looking over her shoulder at you and the light is behind, giving her the look of a crown. “Hold that.” You say. 

 

Junko freezes. You snap the picture and a few more to make sure.

 

You offer the camera to Kasumi. “Like this?”

 

She flips through the pictures and laughs. “Exactly what I was going for, thank you. You’re so reliable.” She ruffles your hair again. “Here, Junko-chan, what do you think?”

 

Junko gasped, her hands going to her face. “That- that’s beautiful. How - I’m not even made up that well - and it took her like four seconds-- I look amazing, Kasumi-chan!”

 

Kise looks at you and you shrug. You’re not really sure what she’s freaking out about. It wasn’t that good a photo, but good enough for a concept. 

 

Kasumi laughed. “I told you, my little sister is very, very good. I think that the magazine is going to be very pleased with the results of the actual shoot.”

  
  
-


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey real life stuff made this late 
> 
> to anyone who reads I Don't Want to Live on the Moon (My other fic) the next update will be on schedule. this week was missed due to reasons of bad brains and real life sickness

III

 

**,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

 

Elementary rushes past like the wind in a monsoon. Your shelves grow heavy with ribbons and trophies and your father sets up a bank account to save the money you and Kise make. So long as there’s enough to buy the equipment you want and fresh film, you don’t care. He might have set one up for Kise too. You stopped listening.

 

You both apply to Teikou, because it's your father's alma mater. Your name is up on the board when they post the results. Kise’s as well. No one is surprised, least of all you.

 

"We're not in the same class." Ryouta says, looking up at the wall of names like it personally offended him. People part around him and eyes follow his sunshine hair, his easy movement. 

 

You barely notice it anymore. "For once." 

 

He pouts. "Can't you sound at least a little sad about it?"

 

You roll your eyes. "It'll be a pain trying to find a partner. We'll see each other at home." 

 

Teikou was a bit too far to commute from your houses, so your parents thought about it and finally rented out a small apartment for you to share with Kise. They all agreed that it’d be good practice for when the two of you entered university. It honestly wasn't different from living at home, except the two of you had to make your own food and do your own chores. You were always with Kise anyway.

 

Not that there hasn’t been some issues. Kise is a slob. You’re not. 

 

You win, because you’re a heartless bastard and you know where he sleeps.

  
  


**,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

  
  


Teikou is interesting for roughly three seconds. 

 

The first day assemble comes up quick. The grounds are lush with flowers in neatly kept rows, just like the students. High class. Beautiful, but severe. You have a steady job the  _ second _ you graduate. You make more money a month then most salarymen. You’ve already got seven more jobs lined up.

 

You and Ryouta share a glance. He's just as bored as you are, if not more because he doesn't have the distraction of people watching. Middle school.

 

"Got a club picked out?" You ask, when the speech is over. "I'm going for school newspaper." School rules say that students must join one extracurricular activity, even if it's just the go home club. Plus your mother wanted it. She wants you to branch out, make  _ friends _ . 

 

You're... skeptical. Kise’s family doesn't count. You were born into that. 

 

No one in elementary would hang out with you because of the Bullying incident. 

 

(Also, they were pre-teens. No thank you.) 

 

You're not great with people.

 

Kise makes a face. "I might try one of the sports clubs again. Maybe judo. There might be  _ something _ interesting at Teikou." His voice is supremely doubtful. 

 

You get it. 

 

You sigh and lean against him, in a rare show of comfort. Kise's been getting colder and more cynical with each easy victory. You can't say you don't get where he's coming from. This body masters things almost instantly - so easy it just seems  _ cheap _ . You never have to work at anything anymore. 

 

"You'll find something." You tell him. 

 

He rests his head on yours. "Really?"

 

"Really really." You don't have to fake certainty. You  _ know _ . "It might take a while, but something will come up."

 

He laughs and jaws drop all around you. "If Hanacchi says it, it must be true." 

 

You let him hook his arm around you. "Don't you forget it." you say with a sniff.

 

**,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

 

Three weeks later you finally stop dragging your feet. The newspaper club room is bigger than you thought it would be. A low grade chatter hangs in the air. You hand your application to a girl with glasses and purple-black hair. You don't catch her name, too busy following the curve of her white neck. You almost go for your camera right there. 

 

No. Bad. Don't photograph people without their permission.

 

She leads you to one of the desks piled high with papers. It looks more like the desk of a ceo, than a middle school newspaper. The living personification of the word  _ tired _ sits at the desk, body drooping, black circles under his eyes, black hair pulled back into a careless bun. 

 

"Got a newbie, Captain." Glasses girl says cheerfully and hands over your application, ignoring his pitiful groan ruthlessly.

 

"Wonderful. Great. Perfect." He rubs his eyes, glances at the application. "Ryukawa-chan, right? My name is Fujiwara Tadao. I’m the captain and main editor of the Teikou Times. Glad to have you. What are you best with?"

 

You make a mental note to never _ ever  _ accept captaincy. You pull out the camera from your bag. "Photography."

 

He looks at the camera and whistles. "That's some serious hardware. You know how to use that thing?" 

 

You give a bored look. "Some."

 

"Thank god. A newbie I don't have to babysit, you're officially my favorite." And under his sarcastic apathy he does seem genuinely relieved. He waves across the room. “Oi, Shimada! Got you a catch!”

 

A girl breaks off from a group and delicately picks her way over. Her warm brown eyes look you up and down; She gives you a small smile and a bow, her black hair in a thick braid. “A pleasure to meet you. My name is Shimada Ai. I’m a reporter in my third year.”

 

You bow slightly. “Ryukawa Hana. Photographer.”

 

“The two of you are assigned to the basketball club.” Fujiwara breaks in. 

 

Shimada whirls, all demureness gone. “ _ What _ ? I had them last year! Sensei  _ said _ that someone else had to do it- ”

 

“I  _ know _ what he said, but you're our most experienced and you already know about them. It has to be you, until we can find someone else. The last two just quit.” He snaps. “I don’t like it either, but - “

 

“You two are scaring the newbie.” The purple haired girl sing-songed while examining her manicured nails.

 

You tilt your head. “Is there something wrong with the basketball club?”

 

They all share a glance. Fujiwara hesitates. "The basketball club can be a little... intense. The captain - Nijimura - has a bit of a temper." 

 

Purple hair laughs. “That’s one polite way to say  _ obsessed _ . He doesn't like anyone getting in the way of his teams training, and he really doesn’t like reporters of any kind.”

 

“Stop trying to scare her, Kimi.” Fujiwara says. “Shimada, at least try and _ interview  _ the captain this time." 

 

"Yay. I make no promises." That was the least enthusiastic sound you've ever heard. 

 

“Just go, already. Get out of my hair.” He mustered up a smile for you that looked painful. “Don’t worry about it, Ryukawa. He’s not really a  _ bully  _ and he wouldn't pick on a first year.”

 

Kimi laughed. “Just try not to flinch or he might attack without thinking.”

 

You nod and turn to follow Shimada. 

 

_ Nijimura. _

 

Interesting. Your second cannon character.

  
  


**,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

  
  


Nijimura will be your third, apparently. Shimada went out to get the advisor of the club with a grim set to her mouth. 

 

“Aka-chin, there’s an elementary school student in the gym. Get rid of it.” 

 

You look up and up and _ up  _ into the apathetic eyes of Murasakibara. It can’t  _ be _ anyone else. He’s purple and enormous. You hear him clearly, even over the squeak of countless sneakers on the gym floor. 

 

The redhead -  _ Akashi Seijirou _ \- next to him sighed. “Atsushi, please be polite.”

 

Nijimura is dropping down the list.

 

"If your want to go, I’m down for that." You say, meeting the giants purple eyes without flinching, hands tucked into their opposite side sleeves.

 

The redhead looks confused. "I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you correctly."

 

“I’d crush you.” Murasakibara says, sounding bored.

 

You shrug. "You could try."

 

His apathetic eyes get darker and an annoyed scowl falls over his face. 

 

“Atsushi, do  _ not _ fight the girl less than half your size.” Akashi says. “Why don’t you go have a snack? I have some pocky in my bag. Strawberry flavored.”

 

Tension slowly drains from Murasakibara’s body, until he’s nothing more than a walking slump. “I’m hungry.” He pats his stomach and wanders off.

 

Akashi tucks a basketball under his arm. His shirt is sweaty and you wrinkle your nose. “How can I help you?” 

 

You glance pointedly down at the camera hung around your neck, then give him a very bored look.  "Ryukawa Hanako . Photographer for the school newspaper. First year. Waiting for one of my sempai's to talk to your captain.”

 

Akashi sighed. "Akashi Seijuro, first year. Vice captain of the basketball club. Nice to meet you, Ryukawa-san. Nijimura-san did mention something about the journalism club."

 

The two of you are surrounded by a little bubble of strained silence. You’re not sure how to proceed and from the look on his face, neither is he. 

 

How do conversations  _ work? _ You don’t know and you can’t even blame it on being reincarnated. It’s the one thing that followed you from your last life. You adjust the focus on your camera. Something is bothering you about the gym. It wasn’t so much a feeling as an absence of a feeling. 

 

As a photographer you rely on your ability to notice the people around you. If you don’t pay attention, how can you catch the perfect moment, and your gut is telling you you’re missing something? You ignore Akashi and bring the camera up to your eye. 

 

_ There. _

 

Kuroko Tetsuya, main character and invisible man, didn't look like much. His hair was blue, sure, but it wasn't the electric blue of the manga. Instead it was greyer, duller. Lost in between his scores of darker teammates. His skin was white, washed out to grey. You squint you eyes to see him clearly. It was like you were looking through glass into water, like he should be transparent. 

 

Kuroko seems to be fading into focus. The sun, shining through a window behind him, managed to just clip his shoulder, his face, a bit of his eyes. He was looking at something on the outside of the picture. A shoulder of one of his teammates. The hard lights of the gym. the basketball tucked under his arms. 

 

He was a living silhouette. 

  
  


Your camera flash goes off. 

You lower your camera and lose sight of Kuroko. A little curl of satisfaction unfurls inside you. This is  your favorite part. the knowledge that, right here in your hands, you had held a little moment of time. You grasped a grain of sand from the hourglass franticly slipping away, here, now.  Skill and luck. A moment that would have passed without notice. 

 

“Breaking the rules already?” A very unamused voice asked. “Why am I not surprised.”

 

“Be quiet, Nijimura.” Shimada snapped. Than she looked at you and smiled. “Sorry for leaving you alone like that. I hope that no one tried to bother you.”

 

You broke from your world and looked up to meet the eyes of a tall black haired third year wearing soft gray workout clothes. "Not really.”  You say. You didn't ask for permission first. Not that it would have stopped you from doing it anyway.

 

Some things are more important.

 

“I don’t believe it,” Nijimura says with a role of his eyes. “None of my teammates have the sense god gave a puppy. Someone must have done something.”

 

You shrug again. You feel like you’ve been doing that a lot lately.

 

"May I see your camera?" Akashi cut in. 

 

You glance at him and hand it over reluctantly. If he broke it, you'd get a better one out of the hush money. Blackmail is a wonderful thing. You watch the redhead flip through the photos.

 

His eyebrows go higher and higher. "You are quite talented, Ryokawa-san."

 

You already know that.

 

“Let me see that,” Nijimura says. 

 

Akashi tips the camera obligingly, letting his captain look over his shoulder. 

 

The captain whistled, stern look sliding off his face. “Shit, you’re not kidding.”

 

He smiles. "Nijimura-san, I think you should let them. It’s a good way of  getting club funds and good publicity. Everyone wins." 

 

The captain sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not like I have a choice. The teachers made it clear that  _ everyone  _ has to cooperate with the Journalism club, so they can present the information to parents. Oi, Haizaki, did I say you could stop? Keep up or I’m adding laps to your tally.” He snapped the last part over his shoulder. How’d he even see that? Does he have eyes in the back of his head? 

 

The grey haired boy picks up his heels. 

 

“I swear that kid will be the death of me. We need more managers.” Nijimura sighed. 

 

Akashi nodded.  _ “Competent _ ones. Momoi-san is doing what she can, but she’s only one person.” Akashi looked at you. “I don’t suppose - “

 

"No. I’m not one of nature's managers." You say, cutting that off at the start. Taking care of an ungrateful group of teenage boys was not your idea of a good time. If you had to stay in their vicinity for longer than a half an hour it would end in murder. 

 

And then you'd have to worry about hiding the bodies. 

 

You'd just rather  _ not _ . 

 

“Stop trying to poach my first years, Nijimura.” Shimada says.

 

He held up his hands. “I didn’t say anything.”

 

Akashi looked faintly disappointed. "That's too bad. We always have a position open if you change your mind. Poor Momoi is always so overwhelmed with testosterone. She’d welcome another girl with open arms." 

 

You snort. Unlikely. 

 

The interview goes off without a hitch. 

 

Fujiwara’s flabbergasted face almost makes the whole thing worthwhile.

  
  


**,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

 

After the interview, walking home with Kise is a breath of fresh air. For a moment you contemplate telling him about the basketball club adventure. No. Let him find his motivation on his own. He won’t appreciate having his passions pushed on him.

 

You have a lot in common.

 

After the two of you take your baths sit at the table for some sort of food. It plain rice and a bit of seasoning tonight. you're feeling strangely wrung out from making friends today. Your mother would be aghast.  Kise is quiet. You don't try to make him talk. It's obvious that he's thinking about something. 

 

Kise speaks up in the middle of dinner. "Hannacchi, I think I want to start dating. For real." 

 

You pause and set the chopsticks down. Your hair hangs sticks to your neck, still wet. "I'm guessing you don't mean me."

 

You  _ hope _ he doesn't mean you. You love Kise, but he's your brother, and you might actually vomit if he's in love with you. 

 

He makes a face like he's smelled something foul. "Oh, god no. I'd rather date a shark, it'd be less scary. I mean - thirteen's old enough to date right? I won't have to deal with as many fangirls. I just - "

 

Hmm. His face was shuttered. You know anyway.

 

Kise wants, more then anything else, is  _ passion _ . He wants what you have, and he always has. A love that consumes his waking hours, an obsession that comes before all else. It's been an unspoken issue between you the second you picked up a camera. He wants a love and a challenge. 

 

You remember the grey world. You wouldn't wish it on your worst enemy.

 

If kise wants out, you'll help him. You don’t know if he’ll find it in basketball or in another person. "I don't know about that. You are you, after all."

 

Kise shrugged. That was true. His fanbase had only grown since he became a model and there were all sorts of crazies out there. "Curse this beautiful face." He said, sounding bored. 

 

"Poor you," You agree. "Well, I'll miss your wallet, but you have my blessings. Go forth and date." You hope he finds what he's looking for. There's still something that he's not telling you, but it's not like you don't have your own secrets.

 

He rolls his eyes. "Hanacchi is so kind."

 

You hear the unspoken thank you and nudge him with your shoulder.

 

_You're welcome._

  
  
**,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**


	4. IV

**Chapter 4**

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,  
  


The year passes. Working with the newspaper club is easy. They don’t try to be your friend. You know how to handle a camera; you do your job and you do it well, so they leave you in peace. Shimada is a good partner to have. Quiet, polite, self sufficient.  The two of you settle into a groove easily.

 

Kise goes through girlfriends like tissues, each as perfect and pretty as he is. None of them last longer than a month. You get used to finding him in a growing crowd of admirers, fake smile on his face, boredom in his eyes. 

 

Junior high is - dull. The classes are dull, the people are dull, and the teachers are  _ dull _ .  Every second you spend in it is like something _ itching _ inside you. Time is slipping past, wasting away. You want  _ out  _ \- until you’re ready to jump out a window just to get it to stop.  You don’t want to be here. You want to go out and capture things. You want to see more things, you want to bring them home with you in a tiny square, proof that you existed, here, now. 

 

Most of the time, you can ignore it. You have Kise and your family, the newspaper club and your work at the magazines. 

 

It’s not enough. 

 

The world's a big place and you're  _ missing  _ it. 

 

Sometimes in the middle of the night, when Kise is asleep,  you find your thoughts straying to other countries. Picking up a passport and just -  _ going. _ Even if your leave your family behind, even when you remember that you’re turning fourteen and not twenty seven. Instead, you go out at night, wander restlessly for hours. You learn the side roads, the shops, the bad areas of town. 

 

Sometimes it takes you hours to escape your own thoughts.

 

That’s how you make your second friend. 

 

**,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

  
  


One of your routes takes you past a basketball court, in the middle of a park. One of the streetlights is flickering, and it makes for interesting lighting. It’s close to one in the morning, and the moon is barely a sliver in the sky. Normally you don’t see anyone there - the delinquents are all at the red light district at this time of night. 

 

Tonight there’s someone there. A familiar someone, sitting on a park bench with his head in his hands and a basketball beside him. It’s dark, but you don’t need light to see the defeated slump of his shoulders. 

Nijimura.

 

You contemplate ignoring him. The captain is surprisingly tolerable for a canon character. But. Effort. You’re tired and not good with people. You really only know him from the basketball/interview thing.

 

Sympathy is not your strong suit.

 

Nijimura sits up with a sigh, and knocks the basketball off the bench. It rolls towards you and the choice is taken out of your hands. He looks up. “Camera girl? What the hell are you doing out?”

 

“Ryugawa.” You say. 

 

“What? Oh. Right. Ryugawa, what the hell are you doing out at -” he glances at his phone. “One-thirty in the morning. Shit. My mom is going to kill me and my dad is going to  _ let her _ .” He doesn’t make any attempt at moving though. Just sits and looks like death warmed over. Nijimura looks folded, creased with worry.

 

You bend down and scoop op the ball at your feet, and toss it back to him. Wasn’t there something to do with his dad being sick? "You need a job?" your mouth asks before your brain can catch up

 

He blinks, habitual scowl falling. “Do I need a what?”

 

“Do you need a job?” You say, refusing to be embarrassed. It’s already done. Might as well go all in. "My dad needs an assistant. It’s got good pay and steady hours."

 

“What - no, seriously, where did that come from?” He looks up at the sky with a long-suffering expression. “Why is my kohai asking me if I need a job in an empty park at one in the morning, without any context? What even is my life? Why do I always have to deal with the  _ weird ones _ ?” 

 

You give him an unimpressed look. He really needed to learn how to roll with things.  “It’s a yes or no question, Nijimura.”

 

“Treat your sempai with more respect, you brat.” He stood from the bench. “And I’ll have to think about it. What does your father even do?”

 

“He’s the CEO of an international company.”

 

Nijimura stared at you with dead eyes. Than he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course he is.  _ Why _ would he hire a fifteen year old to work for him?”

 

“Because I recommend you. Obviously.” Everything you do is rooted in selfishness. That's what you chose, since you were old enough  to walk. If Nijimura does well - your dad will have someone to pass his company down to. 

 

Someone who’s not you. Your dad would never force you into business, but he’s never hid how much he wanted to teach someone the ropes. He’d like Nijimura. 

 

Most importantly,  _ you  _ wouldn’t have to feel guilty about it anymore. 

 

“Obviously.” He sighed again, but a smile crossed his face. “Thanks. I’ll think about it.” 

 

You shrug. It’s not like you're doing it for him.

 

There's a small pause. “You wanna play?” He asks.

 

For some ungodly reason -maybe it's because you know that going back home would just result in you not sleeping for another four hours - you say yes. 

 

**,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

 

You dribble the ball the way Akashi does. It’s harder than it looks, but still pretty easy. The sun is just peeking over the buildings. Nijimura looks lighter, younger. 

 

"Show off. " Nijimura says with a roll of his eyes.. He won - but not by much. It was a closer game than either of you expected, due to the his tiredness and your body’s insane learning curve. "Why don't you join the basketball team? Why don’t you join  _ any  _ of the sports teams? Teikou would allow it, with talent like yours.  Even the boys teams would be lucky to have you."

 

You line up the shot in your head. The ball leaves your hands and you see it in your mind, following, until you hear the clean swish of  net. "You want the truth?"

 

"Would I have asked if I didn't? Yes, you brat."

 

"Because I  _ have  _ the talent. I don’t have to work for anything, ever. I’ve never held a basketball in my life, and I make three pointers. It’s too easy.” You say, and maybe you’re more exhausted than you thought, because you give him the truth. 

 

Your body is a marvel. 

 

Your body makes every single achievement seem cheap.  

 

“With photography, you  _ can't _ win. It's subjective. You're never going to get the perfect shot, ever.  I do it because there’s always something new to learn. And it's going to outlast me. I like the idea of leaving something behind when I go." Because you sure as hell didn’t last time.

 

And - you want to be remembered, when you die. You want to inspire people without purpose. People like you.  

 

Nijimura scuffed up my hair. "Aren't you a little young to be worried about death?" There’s something behind his smile that you can’t read, when he looks at the net, at the court. It looks a little like resentment. A little like resignation. 

 

You don’t brush him off. But you're not going to change your mind. You love the camera above all else. What is talent compared to the passion that set you alight, when everything was grey and pointless?

 

Finally, he sighed. "I'll think about the job offer. Thanks."

  
  


**,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

  
  


The end of your first year comes around. You’re still with the newspaper, but it’s getting old. Your rub your eyes. It’s been a few months since you and Nijimura started meeting up outside the school. You played for hours again now. “I thought setting up interviews with the  advisors was the cap’s job.” You say.

 

“The captain has a  date tonight, so I volunteered us.” Shimada says cheerfully. She’s got her hands around a cup of hot chocolate. The two of you are walking to the gym, where lights are still blazing. There was some sort of tournament coming up and the team was training doubly in preparation. You’re here to take some candids for Shimada’s interview.  “Speaking of which, do you have anyone you’re planning on spending Christmas with?”

 

You look down at your own hot chocolate, breath misting. Winter was coming on fast this year. You’re looking forward to it. “No. Just family.”

 

“Really? What about that boy I see you walking home with? The pretty blonde one.”

 

You make a face. “No.”

 

“But you walk home with him - he hangs all over you.” Shimada says, eyebrows raised. 

 

You shrug. How long did you and Kise actually “date” for? He was nine at the time - and your birthday was in the same month. Nearly  _ four _ years.

 

That was some serious putting up with him. He owes you so many photo-shoots.  Leaves blow in the wind, skittering across the ground. You idly snap a few pics. Winter and fall are your favorite seasons to do atmospheric pictures with. Kise would look great with a - oh a crown made of icicles. You file that idea away for later. 

 

Shimada cleared her throat. 

 

You blink and look at her.  “What?”

 

Her cheeks are red with the cold, and her eyes are fixed somewhere over your left shoulder. “I said - you’re not dating anyone right now?”

 

You tilt your head. “No.”

 

She sucks in a deep breath. “In - in that case, would you. W-would you — like to come and um. Spend it with me?”

 

It takes a second for you to hear her - too lost in your own musing. “Like a date?” 

 

Her entire face is cherry red now. “Y-yes.” Her voice is barely more than a whisper. 

 

The two of you stop walking, snow falling down softly around you. For once, you don’t really know what to do. You’ve never really thought about your sexuality, never really considered what preference. The outside of a person only mattered as far as the scope of your camera. Gender was just white noise. 

 

Do you want to date her? Shimada is a pretty girl - and she’s fifteen. It’s like pouring ice down your spine. This wasn’t the same situation as Kise. It wouldn’t be fake. You were twenty seven when you died and - no. No thank you. Your parents (in your first life) had an age gap, but they were in their late twenties when they met. A ten year age gap is as low as you’re willing to go and even  _ that’s _ a stretch. 

 

So you shake your head. “Sorry. I’m not interested in dating right now.” 

 

She looked down and let out a shaky laugh; it wasn’t a happy sound. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “You - um. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I can ask the captain to assign you to someone — um. I’m sorry again.” Her voice was hoarse and her hands were fisted at the waist. “I’ll ask when we get back.”

 

Your eyebrows drew down. “What? Why?”

 

“Be-because I don’t want to make your uncomfortable. Most people don’t like knowing. Um. Knowing my preferences.” She wrung her fingers, mouth drawn tight. Speaking from experience. 

 

“I don’t care about that.” You say. “If you wanna switch, fine. Don’t do it because you think I want it. You’re not terrible to hang around.”

  
  


Shimada exhales. “Are you - are you sure?” 

 

That gains her an annoyed look. Do you strike her as someone who does things that they don’t want to? 

 

“Sorry.” She covers her eyes. “Sorry, I just. The last girl I asked avoided me - for years.  I didn't expect you to say yes - but it still sucks.” 

 

You don’t say anything more. The two of you make the rest of the walk in silence. Shimada occasional sniffled. 

 

Nijimura was waiting for you inside the coaches office. “You guys are late.” Nijimura looked at the two of you and his irritation dropped in favor of concern . “Have you been crying? What happened?”

 

You glance at your journalist. Her eyes are still red rimmed.

 

Shimada inhaled once and straightened. “Nothing happened. Sorry for being late, sensei. Shall we get started?” She looked at you - or rather somewhere over your shoulder. “Can you get the pictures now?”

 

“Sure.” You leave and Nijimura followed you. 

 

Nijimura is a nightmare to photograph. He moves at the exact wrong moment, and getting him to hold still was a chore in itself. He acts like a thug. You’re not surprised none of the other photographers with the paper wouldn't come near him. Only half  of  _ your _ pictures turned out with any sort of quality. To blurry, to close, weird faces, closed eyes - the whole shebang. Anyone else would have given up after the twenty fifth ruined picture. 

 

The trick to get him to cooperate was to make him forget you had a camera in the first place. Conversation worked the best. You just had to ask him about his family or about basketball and he’d talk for hours. 

 

He crossed his arms. “Seriously. What happened? Did someone harass you guys?

 

“She got turned down.” 

 

His paused. “That sucks. By who? I can kick his ass if she wants.” 

 

“Me.” You say. 

 

Nijimura fumbled for the basketball. “Yo — should you be telling me this?”

 

You snap a picture a split second before he catches the ball. It’s a good one, you can tell. Then the question reaches you and You give him a flat look. “Why wouldn’t I? We’re friends.”

 

He holds my gaze, a unreadable in his eyes. “...Well, alright. People can be shit-heads. They might try to start something.”

 

“Why would I care about their opinions?” The very idea was laughable.

 

“You might not, but  _ Shimada _ would.” 

 

You pause. That’s true. She seemed upset about it. “You’re right. I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

Nijimura lost the look and ruffled your hair. “You do that. So, we’re friends, huh?” 

 

You allowed it. “What’s wrong with you?”

 

His hand stilled. “What do you mean?”

 

“You’re acting weird.”

 

“I am not.” 

 

You give him another flat look. 

 

He sighs, resigned. “I’m resigning. Stepping down from being captain.”

 

…That wasn’t what you were expecting. “Huh. Why?”

 

“They don’t need me anymore. We just got a new member of first string - he’s a little bit of a brat, but the team is talking to each other more. I’ll just hold them back. They’re a scary bunch of kids.” He sounds fond. 

 

“Akashi’s the new captain?”

 

He shrugged. “Who else would it be?”

 

You nod. “Okay.” You fiddle with your camera.  

 

“That’s all you have to say?”

 

You’re not a fan of futile battles. “Could I change your mind?”

 

Nijimura looked down at you for a long moment. Then he smiles and messes up your hair again. “Nope.”

 

“Then why would I bother?”

 

Nijimura laughs.

  
  


**,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

  
  


The first Kise comes home with a look on his face like he’s been hit in the head. Stunned, and sort of breathless. He grabs you and pulls you into a spin, nearly gliding across the wood floor. “I’m going to join the basketball club! There was this boy - it was amazing, Hanacchi, he was amazing!”

 

Your legs get tangled up in his and you go down in a pile of undignified flailing. You wheeze, the breath knocked out of you. “Kise, what the hell.” You say when the air comes back, interrupting his babbling. “Slow down, asshole. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.” 

 

“I- I think I found it.”

 

“Found what?”

 

The smile on his face. Radiant, happier then you’ve seen for a long, long time. The resentment and boredom is gone and he looks like a normal thirteen year old now. “My passion. I’m gonna join the basketball team!”

 

Grudgingly, you forgive him for knocking you over like an excited dog. Then his words catch up with you. “What, really?” 

 

Were you already that far along in cannon? 

 

Kise practically vibrates out of his perfect skin. “Really!” 

 

You can’t stop your slight smile. “That’s great.” You mean it. The years before you found your camera were — awful. Dull. Empty as a desert. 

 

It wasn’t that different from being dead (and you would know).

 

You wouldn’t wish it on anyone. 

 

His answering smile was blinding.

 

Then you shoved him off and get to your feet. “You’re heavy. What are you eating, rocks?” You examine your camera - no damage, looks like. Kise’s wallet would be the least of his worries if it was. 

 

He yelped, and tumbled off. “Excuse you, this is pure muscle.”

You offered him your hand. “Let’s eat. I think your mom dropped something off yesterday. She brought curry.”

 

Kise looks at your hand, and a soft smile passes over his face. “Alright.” 

 

He takes your hand and you pull him up. 

 

The two of you eat and Kise tells you about Aomine Daiki, who loved basketball enough to move Kise, with enthusiasm. 

 

Looking at his radiant face, you sigh internally. 

 

Now you owed some basketball idiot a favor.

 

_ Great _ . 

  
  


,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

  
  


You check your phone. Five fifteen. The sun was setting, dying Teikou campus red and gold. One by one, the streetlights liker on. Practice should be over by now, but Kise wasn’t waiting for you. He would have texted if something happened, because he was texting you constantly anyway. You breathe warmth into your fingers; white mist spills from your mouth. The next semester was almost here, and winter break. You were looking forward to it. 

 

The club members drift off in groups. No blond. 

 

Finally, you gave up and enter the gym. 

 

“Oh shit— Duck!”

 

Only hours of playing with Nijimura saves you from a black eye. The basketball hits your palm instead of your face, topspin almost skidding and flipping it up to your nose. You get your hands around it by transferring the spin into something calmer, balanced on your fingertip. 

 

You look at the ball like you can’t quite figure out where it came from. Then you look up to find all the people left in the gym staring at you. The Generation of Miracles, some punk you don’t know, Momoi and Nijimura. 

 

_ Of course.  _

 

“Ow.” You say flatly. Your entire arm _ felt  _ that. “What the hell.” 

 

That jolts them into movement. Momoi started forward. “Oh my god, are you alright?” 

 

Kise darts to you to. “Hanacchi, are you hurt?”

 

Aomine makes it to you first, knocking Kise aside like a piece of paper. He grabs you by the shoulders and gives you a shake. He’s at least a two heads taller than you. “How did you catch that? Do you play?” His eyes shine with a worrying light. “Play against with me!”

 

You knock his arms off your shoulders, just in time to avoid being taken down with him. 

 

“Aomine-kun is a brute.” Kuroko says blandly, like he hadn’t just brought his teammate down with a vicious shin kick. “He should know better than to manhandle girls. Shame on him.”

 

“I’m not the one who threw the ball, Tetsu!” Aomine protested. 

 

“I think you’ll find that Aomine-kun failed to catch it.”

 

“Unfair! Satsuki, tell him that’s unfair!” The giant whined. “It’s not my fault his passes are  _ insane _ .”

 

“Honestly, Aomine, stop blaming Kuroko for your inadequacies. ” Midorima adjusted his glasses. “Virgo’s are particularly violent today ~ nanodayo.” 

 

“Mine-chin is the worst.” Murasakibara says. “Hurting a girl - even if it is  _ that  _ one.” 

 

You glare at him. He glares at you. Your relationship hadn’t improved much. There was just something about him that rubbed you the wrong way. 

 

Akashi pats him on the arm - it’s the only place he can reach. His red eyes study you. “Be nice, Atsushi. Ryugawa-san, I had no idea you played.” Akashi said.

 

You give him a bored glance. “I don’t.” 

 

“Bullshit!” Aomine says from the floor. “Akashi, they’re bullying me!” 

 

“Please get off of me,  Aominecchi! I’m dying.” Kise says plaintively.

 

Akashi doesn’t look away. “Please don’t make false accusations, Aomine. It’s unbecoming.”

 

Aomine makes a wounded noise. 

 

You all ignore him.

 

Akashi opened his mouth but before he can say anything, Momoi takes the place of Aomine. Shes standing in front of you, pink eyes wide. You’ve never spoken directly, but you know each other by sight. “Ryugawa-san, are you hurt? Tetsu-kun’s passes are intense.” 

 

You blink once. “Your hair is beautiful. So are your eyes.” You say. “Do you mind if I take your picture?”

 

“Um. Thank you. I guess that’s okay?” Momoi says, her face going pink.

 

Awesome. She’s pretty as Kise, in a completely different way. “Thank you,” you say with a sincere smile. 

 

“You’re never going to get rid of her now, Momoicchi.” Kise says, completely deadpan. “Hanacchi is going keep you forever.”

 

“Shut up Kise.” You say absently, still critically examining Momoi. What would work best? Full sunlight? Moonlight? Indoor? Outdoor? 

 

She studies you in return. Her eyes are sharp and concentrated. 

 

It’s a good look on her. 

 

“Okay, okay. Ryugawa’s fine. Break it up, you idiots.” Nijimura says, shooing them off . He glances at you, at the ball still spinning away, and them back you. He rolls his eyes. “Of course you’d be the one to catch it. I’m not even surprised. You’re  _ weird  _ enough. You just need to dye your hair and you’d fit right in.”

 

“I think I’m offended.” You say after a moment. 

 

“Whatever. What’re you doing hanging around this late anyway? Did I miss a memo from the paper or something?” 

 

You let the ball fall, dribbling it like you’ve done so many times against him. “Nope. I’m here to pick Kise up.” You glare at the friend in question, who’s still lying on the floor for some reason. “Who’s _ late _ , by the way.”

 

Kise glanced at the high window and paled;  by now the sun was completely gone. He bolted up. “Oh my god, I’m so late. I didn’t realize what time it was! I need to get my stuff and — “ Kise took one step and his buckled underneath him. Aomine, already up, caught him with a little noise of protest. Kise’s already flushed face went tomato red. 

 

You raise an eyebrow at him. 

 

He went almost purple. “I think I overdid it.” Kise said, pushing off Aomine with haste, flailing limbs barely missing Kuroko’s head.

 

Kuroko coughed politely. “Kise-kun tries to outplay Aomine-kun, because he’s an idiot.”

 

Kise, Momoi, Aomine, and Nijimura jump. 

 

You stare at them. 

 

What the hell was that reaction?

 

“Tetsu, quit  _ sneaking up  _ on people.” Aomine said. “You’re going to give someone a heart attack.” 

 

“What the hell are you talking about? He’s been standing there the whole time.” You say.

 

Now _ you  _ were the one being stared at. “What?”

 

“You can _ see _ Tetsu-kun?” Momoi asks.

 

You look at her and then at him, just standing there. “Is that a trick question? He’s... right there.”

 

Nijimura has his head in his hands and his shoulders are shaking. You glower at him. You know when someone is laughing at your expense. “Of course you can see him! ‘He’s right there!’. Oh god, my sides.”

 

Kuroko looks like he’s completely lost. “I have a very weak presence. People don’t just …  _ see me _ .” 

 

Oh. That was his whole thing, right. The tension drains from your shoulders.“Huh. whatever. Kise, get you shit. We need to catch the next train.”

 

Kise shook himself. “Right. I got my stuff, Hanacchi. I’m ready.” he hefted his bag over his shoulders and waved at the rest of them with his shiniest smile on. “See you tomorrow!”

 

Nijimura snickered. “R-right. Right, see you bright and early. Later Ryugawa.” 

 

You flip him off and leave. Kise falls into step with you. 

 

“Wait. Why did they leave together?” you hear Aomine ask just before you’re out the door. “Are they dating? Kise and that plain girl?”

 

“Aomine-kun wouldn’t know tact if it bit him.” Kuroko says, judgment dripping from his bland voice.

 

And they were off again. You left them to their bickering, put them behind you. 

 

You have other things to worry about. 

 

Kise has been keeping secrets.

 

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i found the very earliest concept for hana, back when she was literally a list of phrases this shit is hilarious and goes like this:
> 
> .What the hell is basketball
> 
> .Yolo muthatruka
> 
> .Congrats On Your Face
> 
> .Meet me out by the pit
> 
> .Everybody was kung fu fighting
> 
> .Point and shoot (no not like that)
> 
> .What are these "rules" of which you speak?
> 
> .Crossdressing for great justice
> 
> .Burn the gender binary
> 
> .don't get mad get even
> 
> .Isn't mercy a type of food? Can you eat it?
> 
> .Fight all the creeps!
> 
> i love this it's like nothing changed except her appearance


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kay i was tired of editing this shit. stuff happened which is why this is so late. got a job - yay! overnights - not yay! suffered through all the training so i can't quit now. 
> 
> i don't want to live on the moon is still in the works (sorry T-T) but that should up sometime in the next week. probally gonna have to slow down on the updates until things settle down over here.

 

V.

 

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

 

You take Kise home after practice. The house is warm and still but you leave the lights off except for one of the small ones over the entrance, letting the pale glow catch on your painted nails and kise’s hair. 

 

Kise dumps his bag on the floor like always, heads to the living room and flops face down on the couch.

 

You’ll let it go for now. Instead, you step over it and follow him to The Couch. 

 

The Couch is a mauve and green abomination with the softness of a ten thousand dollar bed. Perfect for movie marathons when you can’t sleep and you don’t feel like going out. The look on your parents face when you bought was hilarious. They put a budget on your furniture spending after.

 

Leaving him there, you head into the kitchen, for once mimicking Kise and leaving your bag. Sleep tugged at your mind; begging you to catch up on too many nights without rest. 

 

(Awake, your last life is like a movie that you watched once upon a time. Faces are faded, blurred. Smiles and laughter and tears and an emotions are all second hand. Sounds and words are echos. 

 

At night - at night everything is more immediate.

 

Lights. Sounds. 

 

Pain.

 

Nothing.

 

You don’t sleep most nights. Your body doesn't seem to need much.) 

 

This was going to be a Conversation, you could tell. One with emotions. You’re not great at empathy in general.  

 

The things that you do for him. 

 

Grabbing an apple, you head back into the living room.  Kise had the TV on and the volume down low. The sound of a basketball being dribbled across the court and Kise is staring at it like it holds the answer to world peace. 

 

You roll your eyes and collapsed sideways onto him, not gently. 

 

Kise wheezes, and mashes his face in the cushion. 

 

Neither of you talk. 

 

Kise fidgets and shifts, but you don’t budge. Either he’s going to talk, or you’re going to sit on him till morning. You crunch into your apple, not moving a muscle. When you wanted, you could outwait a mountain -- Kise doesn’t stand a chance.

 

Like always, he breaks first.

 

Kise’s voice is muffled. “I got dumped again.” 

 

You tilt your head back, thinking. Was this the girl with the beauty mark drawn on or the one with the knock off prada bag?

 

No, he meant the one that showed up at your apartment last week. That was a shame. This one had hair the color of black coffee and perfect smoky eye shadow technique. You almost introduced her to a model you know. She could have gone pretty far in the industry. She took one look at you and her nose wrinkled like she stepped in something foul. 

 

You’d ignored her like all the rest.

 

Kise’s girlfriends were always pretty and popular and they always dumped him. Girlfriend number twelve was nearly the same as girlfriend number one. 

 

They always hate you.

 

“I think there’s something wrong with me,” Kise said after a long silent moment. “I thought it would be like dating you. Someone who hangs out with me, who doesn’t mind the attention that I get. Who doesn’t want another best friend? They always start out fine and it’s not like there's something wrong with them. It’s just — I don’t feel  _ anything _ for them.”

 

“So?” That was normal, right?

 

“They end up crying on me. Guys don’t like making girls cry. It feels terrible.”

 

Runny makeup would be annoying. It’s hell to get out of your clothes. 

 

“But you like Aomine.” You point out.

 

He made a noise like a tea kettle boiling over.  "That’s  _ different _ , Hanacchi! When I saw Aomine for the first time he was playing basketball; you've never seen him like that -- even you would get a little starstruck, okay? He gets  _ intense _ ."

 

You consider this for a moment. “Yeah, you’re crushing pretty hard.”

 

Kise presses his face into the back of the couch.  _ "Nooooo _ . I don't  _ want _ to. He's a basketball idiot. I have better taste than that. If I'm going to be gay it's going to be for someone just as pretty and famous as I am. Just because he’s got the body of a god and really nice eyes and --  _ oh god _ . I’m so gay, Hanacchi."

 

"You have no taste when it comes to people." 

 

Exhibit A: You. 

 

(B through H are also you. The rest are his girlfriends.)

 

"Hanacchi, it's so dumb. He's  _ so dumb _ ."

 

"And hot."

 

"Oh my god."

 

"What? I'm a photographer. I notice stuff. You want to climb him like a tree. Make with the make out, the beast with two backs, the horizontal tango, score some hoops in his _ pants,  _ if you know what I mean --"

 

Kise spluttered and flailed up, knocking you over; he slapped a hand over your mouth. Up close, you can see the vivid blush, even in the low light. "Oh my god, shut up! You are  _ the worst _ . I’m going to tell your mom you’re corrupting me." 

 

True. 

 

An impromptu shoving match takes place. There is hair pulling and tickling and all sorts of dirty tricks, but you're far more ruthless than Kise is. He ends up with his face mashed into the couch with you sitting on his back again.

 

“The balance has been restored,” You say solemnly while he swears into the couch. “Once again, the strongest sibling rules;  and so it shall be forever.”

 

“The  _ worst _ ,” Kise says. 

 

You roll your eyes and finish off the apple. You shoot it into the trash beside the TV. It lands neatly. 

 

There's another silence. 

 

Kise was the one to break it again. "You don't mind? About…  _ liking _ . Aomine."

 

You smack his head, and then you do it again just because. "I thought I heard something so stupid that I almost died -- stop trying to lower my IQ because you’re jealous. Did a basketball hit you one too many times?"

 

"Okay, okay, ow! Hanacchi is a bastion of forward thinking; please stop hitting me in the face, it's insured." Kise was laughing though, like some sort of weight had been lifted off him. 

 

You hit him again, just because. 

 

You’re not going to listen to him talk about his guy problems, though. You draw the line at hearing a kid you knew in diapers talk about sex stuff. 

 

What an idiot. 

 

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

  
  


Despite having both Akashi _and_ Midorima in your class, Kise as your friend, and Aomine -- ineffectively -- trying to pester you into a game, you still don’t care about sports. You’re doging miracles left and right just walking through the halls after class. It’s getting a little stupid

 

Operation: What the hell is basketball is going swimmingly. Avoiding all mention of basketball -- and other sports just to be safe -- while being trapped in a sports crazy school like Teikou is hard. It's taken dedication, creativity,  paranoia, and a truly staggering amount of selective obliviousness, but you've done it.

 

It's just that drama made you break out in hives. 

 

Of course, you can’t dodge them all the time. Lunchtime is spent with Kise. Kise, who’s part of the basketball club. Kise who sat with the miracles more often than not. 

 

"Hanacchi!" Kise called over the talk of the cafeteria. "Over here!" He is waving something -- you recognized the cover of Gloss, a fashion magazine that you'd recently done a shoot for. 

 

He  _ is  _ sitting with the rest of the miracle's. 

 

_ Of course. _

 

You chew on the straw of your juice box (Cherry flavored! Full of vitamin A and necessary antioxidants!). You don't like looking at food or smelling it, some days. You  _ should _ just leave.

 

On one hand: Sulking Kise.

 

On the other: You’re allergic to sports drama. 

 

Which one would be more annoying? 

 

You resentfully make your way over. "Kise." You say, leaning on Kise like he’s your own personal resting post. 

 

"Hello, Hanako-san." Akashi says, an amused smile hidden in the crease of his mouth. You’re pretty sure that he knows that you’re avoiding the basketball team, even if he doesn’t know why, and he found your pain funny. 

 

“Go away.” Murasakibara says. 

 

You flip him off.

 

"Akashi. Shin-chan. Momoi." Because you have no luck, all of the miracles are present. Kuroko, Aomine, Akashi and -- ugh -- Murasakibara on one side. Kise and Midorima on the other. Momoi gives you a tentative smile from beside Aomine.   

 

Midorima sniffed. "That is not the proper way to act, Ryugawa. A lady should --" 

 

"Shut up, Shin-chan." 

 

He settles into offended silence and Akashi coughs, hiding his smile behind his hand. 

 

You roll your eyes. To be honest, Midorima was your favorite of the entire generation. You like selfish people. Kise. Yourself.

 

Also, his eyelashes and hands make you reach for your camera more often than not. He's not Kise level pretty, but he's got his own charm. 

 

A hand reached down and snatched something off Kuroko's plate. “What the fuck is up?” 

 

"Haizaki-kun." Kuroko says evenly. 

 

Kise’s body locks up. 

 

“Who’s the chick?” Haizaki said around a mouthful of food. “Your newest bitch Ryouta? You only got dumped a week ago. That’s cold man.”

 

You glance at the newcomer - and recognize him from all your time with the basketball team, but you've never spoken to him. Haizaki Shougo wasn't that interesting.  You leaned over kise's shoulder, getting a better look at the magazine. Hiro - the model - was gaunt and terrifying looking. 

 

"That was a fun shoot," you say. Even if she kept chattering at you. 

 

Kise leaned back into you, letting you rest your chin on his shoulder. His shoulders are still tense, but his face is normal. "Kasumi-nee called last night. She has a job for you or something."

 

You hum. "What job?" 

 

Your head moves with his shrug. “Something about america and a rich father? It was one in the morning. I stopped listening to her after the third rant about socioeconomics. She was pretty drunk." 

 

“I’ll call her back tonight.”  

 

"You guys are so gross." Aomine says. 

 

Kise and you turn to him as one. "What?"

 

He gestures at you with his fork. "Quit it with the pda! Some people are trying to eat." 

 

"Kise-kun is shameless." Kuroko adds.

 

“Eh, Aominecchi is mean.” Kise ignores Kuroko entirely, pouting at Aomine full force. 

 

What? Wasn't he supposed to be sort of in love with Kuroko?

 

A hand slammed into the table hard enough to send the dishes rattling. "Don’t ignore your betters, Ryouta. It’s  _ rude. _ " Haizaki eyes trailed over you like a slime coated hand.  “Or are you still upset about that thing with Hifumi-chan? I can’t help that girls just like me better than you.” 

 

He flashes you a fake smile. "Haizaki Shougo, starter for the basketball club. Hana-chan, right? From the newspaper."

 

You ignore Kise's tense body and let your eyes drag up his body, going slow until you get to his face. Haizaki is good looking and talented in a very normal way, without Kise’s beauty or Momoi’s silk over steel look. A manipulative douche like all the manipulative douches that you've met before.

 

As fake smiles go, you give it a four out of ten. It might fool preteens in love, but you spend your time with professional models. 

 

Not good enough. 

 

"Don't refer to me by my first name. It’s _ rude _ ." You say, around the juice box. 

 

("Shut. Down." Aomine whispers. 

 

"Shh!" Momoi whispers back.)

 

His handsome face twists into something ugly and he leans into your personal space. "What the fuck did you say to me, you bitch? You think you’re too good for me?"

 

“Yes.” Obviously.

 

His fist comes back and Momoi gasps. You see Murasakibara look a lot less sleepy from the corner of your eye.  “Say your prayers  _ bitch _ \--” 

 

"Shougo." Akashi's voice could have been a razor to a throat. "That is not how we behave on the basketball team. This is your only warning."

 

There was a moment of perilous silence. Haizaki met Akashi eyes. Finally, the grey haired boy sneered. "Sure thing,  _ Captain. _ " He threw a poisonous glare at you over his shoulder. “Guess we'll have to finish that  _ discussion _ outside of school.”

 

An uneasy silence is left behind. Akashi sighs. “Shougou is getting out of control. My sincerest apologies, Hanako-san. He will be disciplined.”

 

“He only gets one.” You say and drop Kise’s chopsticks back onto his bento. 

 

Kise snorts. 

 

The next time he gets in your face will be his last. You’re not afraid of blood -- yours or others. Martial arts are just as easy as everything else. 

 

You meet Akashi’s eyes and he gives a miniscule nod. 

 

Message received.

 

Momoi stands up, hands twisting together in worried knots. “Are you okay Hana-chan?”

 

You give her an odd look. It’s not like he hit you. “Yeah.”

 

Kise keeps his face straight, but you can feel his shoulders shake with mirth. He clears his throat. "Hanacchi, Akashicchi is going to let me play in a game! It's only a practice match, but I’m starting! You’re coming, right?"

 

Auntie would kill you if you didn’t get pictures. “Obviously.” 

 

Momoi clears her throat. She's still standing.

 

You look over to Momoi with a blank face. 

 

She give you a nervous looking smile. "You and Kise are very close Ryukawa-san --"

 

"You can call me Hana."  You say. 

 

Momoi's eyes dart the way Haizaki stormed off in then back to you. Her smile becomes more confident. "Hana-chan, then. What is that you do?"

 

"You don't know Momoicchi?" Kise says, a note of surprise in his voice. "I thought you knew everything!"

 

Momoi laughed. "Hana-chan has nothing to do with basketball, Ki-kun. I haven't had the time to look into it yet."

 

"I'm a photographer." You say, slipping into the table between Kise and Kuroko, across from Momoi. You pick up a cherry tomato from Kise's salad and pop into your mouth. 

 

"Hanacchi is the best!" Kise says, in full sparkle mode as he shoves the magazine across the table. "She did this spread for a big clothing company two weeks ago, and she's already getting more offers. She's won tons of prizes too!"

 

The entire table looked at the photographs. 

 

“I don’t get it.” Aomine says. No one is surprised. 

 

Momoi's eyes went wide. "These are really good."

 

"I know." you say. 

 

Akashi makes a noise of recognition. "I thought your name sounded familiar. Father was talking about getting someone to do the advertisements for a product we make and your name came up." 

 

"Hell have to wait." You say. "I have a list as long as my arm." Your father actually had to have his secretary go through everything that you've been getting. 

 

Akashi smiled. "My father isn't used to being told no.  He was quite disappointed about it, because he works closely with your own father. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to do it as a favour to me?" 

 

"No, I wouldn’t.”

 

Akashi blinked. 

 

"You wanted to take _ my  _ picture?" Momoi burst out. The magazine was crushed between her hands and her voice was even higher pitched than normal. " _ Why _ ?"

 

...Is that a trick question?

 

"Because you're beautiful." 

 

Because she is. Her hair is peach and her skin is flawless. Her eyes are your favorite part --  too sharp for her face; they don’t fit, betraying the intelligence her face denied. 

 

Momoi's face goes cherry red and her mouth opens and closes. She stares at you with an almost helpless look in her eyes. " I - I have to go!" She squeaks and bounces up from the table. “Lot’s of data to analyze, lots of -- bye!” 

 

Her skirt flutters and then she’s gone. 

 

All of you look after her for a few stunned seconds. 

 

“What the hell?” Aomine says. 

 

You look at Kise. 

 

Kise looks at you. 

 

"Hanacchi is a ladykiller." Kise says. 

 

You shove him. “Shut up.”

 

“Gross,” Murasakibara says. “Leave Momo-chin alone.” 

 

“You are all idiots.” Midorima says under his breath. 

 

Kuroko sighs. “Murasakibara-kun, please don’t chew with your mouth open.” 

 

Akashi coughs and takes a sip of tea. 

 

You narrow your eyes at him. He’s laughing at you again. You steal his dessert in revenge.

 

**,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

Summer sun beat down on your feet, the only part of you outside of the shade. Your half eaten bento is abandoned in favor of an catalog in english. Kasumi wanted you to pick out something for an early birthday present. They have some specialized gear that you can't get in japan.

 

The shadow lingers at the edge of your bench for a good ten minutes, paitently waitning for you to aknowledge it.

 

If you ignored the boy standing over you, he might get bored and go away.

 

"Hanako-san." Akashi says.

 

"Busy. Go away." Spending lunch out in the courtyard is supposed to be safe from basketball. You flip another page. The team didn't come to _you._ You weren't apart of their group.

 

Akashi sighs. "Hanako-san, this will only take a moment. Please indulge me."

 

"You're not going to leave, are you?"

 

"No. I am very stubborn."

 

You sigh and roll your head back, look up at him. "What?"

 

Incredibly, Akashi hesitates. "It's a somewhat embaressing matter. Please know that whatever your answer, I will respect it."

 

Okay. Now you're intrested. "Spit it out."

 

He - sighs. "My father wants me to... pick a wife. Yes, I know that it's old fashion - but it is what is. There is. - _pressure._ "

 

"What does that have to do with anything? Tell him to stuff it."

 

Akashi paused. "He's my father."

 

You shrug. And?

 

Akashi looks confused and a little lost. Akashi is pretty in the way all the Miracles are. The calm supiritority radiates off him like the sun gives off heat. Right now, there's something brittle about his face. Like you suggested turning off gravity, or swimming across the moon. "He's my father." He repeats.

 

Irritation sparked. "Whatever. What do you want?"

 

"I was hoping that _you_ would consider posing as my fiance. It's a temporary measure, until I found someone more interested, or until we graduate. Whichever comes first." Akashi sighed. "A true partner is not something that I want to worry about right now, on top of being captain and maintaining my studies."

 

...this sounds familiar. "Why come to me?"

 

"You're the best candidate. You have ties to a prestigious family of entertainers, your father is the CEO of a company on par with my father, your mother is one of the best lawyers in Japan, and you yourself have won countless awards for photography and achieved full marks on your tests. My father could not possibly disapprove."

 

"Plus I'm the heir to a company that he wants. And he wants you to marry me to take it over."

 

Akashi blinked, clearly surprised. Then he smiles. "Yes. He is a very old fashioned man. In his days, women did not inherit their father's companies."

 

You shrug. "Well, sorry to disappoint but I'm not inheriting it either way."

 

"... Does _your_ father disapprove?" Akashi's mouth went thin.

 

What a gentleman. "Nah. I just don't want to."

 

"I see." Akashi clearly did not see. "Anyway, will you consider it? you're the only one that I know who won't take it too seriously."

 

Maybe it's the nostalgia that makes you shrug, smile a little. "I'll think about it."

 

The chances are slim.

 

You don't intend to be in cutting range when Akashi shatters.

 

(But you've been bored. Fake dating Kise give you something to do during grade school. Maybe...)

 

Akashi sighed. "That's all I can ask for." Before he turns, he adjusts his shirt. "You might want to look down."

 

You glance down to find that four of your buttons are gone, and your shirt is gaping open. Sking and bra (black, lots of lace, because Kasumi does most of your shopping) are both exposed. "Oh. That would explains some things." You thought people were staring at you more then usual. How long was it like that?

 

He clears his throat, and his ears go a little red. "I'll send Momoi along with a spare shirt."

 

You raise your hand in a lazy salute. "Sure thing."

 

**,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**

 

Two days latter you brave the people and the stands and the sheer - sportiness of it and sit through Kise's first game. The rules pass over your head like a bullet train. You have a seat that's almost on the bench and Kise spots you.

 

Kise is faltering. Nervous. Not as sparkly as he normally is. He waves.

 

You give him half a smile and he relaxes.

 

(You remember your first big competition, stepping up for the award ceremony. Six years old, you were dwarfed by the teenagers and adults.

 

It might be the closest you've ever been to being unsure in this life. He looks like you felt.)

 

He fumbles for the ball and trips over his own feet. Your shoulders grow tighter. The view through your camera is a grim one. 

 

Kise doesn't have the stamina for this.

 

It's chance and luck that you have the camera on them. Their heads are bowed together, their words to quiet to hear, but you watch Kise's shoulder settle. His steps firm, his head tilt up. He glances at you again and then back at Kuroko, who says something that makes Kise laugh. Kuroko offers Kise a hand off the ground and you see the moment Kise falls. See his face shift, like the whole universe shifted and this pale, invisible boy is a compass that points to its center.

 

You swallow and lean into the plastic seat, clutching the camera in your hands. The world is unsteady. You feel cold, and small, and very young. Like a foundation has cracked under your feet.

 

Kise leans in and your heart sinks.

 

You capture the moment anyway. You don't know people, but you _know_ Kise. This isn't Aomine. A puppy crush fueled by hormones, a chance infatuation.

 

It's fascination.

 

It's the feeling that you're not the most important person in his life anymore. 

 

Kise's eyes follow Kuroko across the room.

 

It's the start of something you don't understand.

 

He blows past the other team.

 

Even for Kise, it's beautiful.

 

You cheer when they win, jump up and weave your way over to throw your arm around Kise. "Good work."

 

Kuroko smiles and towels sweat off his face. "Well done, Kise-kun."

 

Kise -- blushes, not in a pretty way. It's all ugly flush and sweat and you stare, because you've never seen him look so real. "Thanks, Kurokocchi! I think you should take me out to eat. It is my first game after all." 

 

Kuroko blinks, face deadpan. "Kise-kun ruined it by opening his mouth." But you can see the smile in his eyes when he turns away. 

 

Kise pouts, and follows like a there's a magnet in his bones and Kuroko is true north. "Kurokocchi is so mean!" 

 

You're left behind and Kise doesn't look back. 

 

You turn your eyes to Kuroko and something hot and bitter fills your throat.

 

Being replaced always hurts. 

 

(It will take you a long time to forgive either of them.)

 

**,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,**


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warnings: depression, thoughts of suicide, blood, misogyny (thanks haizaki), disassociation
> 
> dying fucks you up basically.

VI

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

 

You have bad days.

 

They go like this: You fall asleep. Dream about dying, about vanishing into nothing. Dream about the loss of everything you've ever loved or hated or felt anything for. Dream about a dark place, soft and peaceful. Peace without ending, peace without pain.

 

Dream about dreaming.

 

Wake up.

 

Peace vanishes like smoke. The loss feels like being punched in the throat, like the kick of your heart is a siren in your head. Understand, again, how much you've lost; how much you've changed. You stare at the ceiling, eyes and mouth dry and you don't _care_.

 

Death scrubs you clean. People, places, promises - in the dark, they mean nothing.

 

Repeat a word often enough and it loses meaning. Relive a memory too much and it frays.

 

You brought a piece of the dark place out into life. Sometimes it swallows you until everything seems ...pointless. At the end of this life, you'll be dead again. You were an older sister once. Their faces are still sharp. The only thing left is the echo of a thought. A grief you don't feel.

 

(Nothing matters when you're dead.

 

You miss it.)

 

Your door creaks open. "Hanacchi, you up? You're gonna be late."

 

It takes one long moment to recognize the voice.

 

_Kise._

 

You wait for the sting of his voice to set in, the regret for making him worry. You haven't spoken more than three words to Kise in the past few mornings.

 

It doesn't matter.

 

Kise knocks a few more times before the door creaks open, lets in a sliver of light. "Hanacchi? Are you awake?"

 

Turn your head. Talk to him.

 

You roll over and stare at the wall instead. Your face feels like a whiteboard wiped clean. The body you're stuck in feels heavy, sluggish, disconnected. The heart is too loud.

 

"Hanacchi? Are you... awake?" He tries again. "Are you sick? Is it that time of the month?"

 

Silence. Your eyes are heavy, so you close them.

 

Eventually, Kise leaves for school.

 

You don't know how long you stay in the dark. Your curtains are heavy enough to block the sun. You sink down, further into the numbness. Even breathing takes effort, almost more than you have in you. Nothing you do matters in the end - so why do anything at all?

 

Things move on the edge of your vision - a flash of yellow. Food appears in your room that you don't eat. Water you don't drink. You don't sleep, you don't speak, you don't blink.

 

You just… don't. For a long time, you don't. You _can't_.

 

It's a phone call that pulls you out. The jaunty, ear grating tune drags your attention to the nightstand. There - next to the bowl of cold rice. Your mother's face lights up the lock screen. Three minutes later, it goes dark only too light up again instantly.

 

Maybe she'll stop on her own.

 

She doesn't.

 

You just want quiet. Peace. Moving your arm feels like lifting a mountain; you do it anyway. Hit talk, put the speaker on.

 

Kaede Ryugawa's voice is calm water in a river bed. She has dark, short hair and perfect makeup. Professional. Her mouth is pulled into a frown. "Ryouta called me."

 

Words… you search for them, but words are always the first thing to go. "Mom." You say, voice a croak.

 

Her frown deepens. Finally she speaks. "Ryouta wasn't wrong. You look terrible. Are you sick Hana-chan?"

 

You've already run out of words, so you nod instead.

 

Her perfect brows furrow. "I can be on the next plane home in three days."

 

You shake your head. "M fine."

 

"You are certainly not fine, my dear."

 

"What about your clients."

 

She waves her hand, manicured nails flashing in the light. "They can certainly wait. Nothing is more important to me than you. You'll always come first, Hana."

 

You close your eyes.

 

She's not joking. Kaede Ryugawa never joked about anything. If you asked, she'd drop anything and come make sure you were fine.

 

"Mom, I'm fine. It was just a … stomach bug. I'm going back to school today."

 

Kaede searches your eyes, loving mother replaced for one moment with the number one lawyer in Japan, possibly the world. You don't look away.

 

"I love you. You know that right, Hana-chan?" Kaede asks.

 

"...Yeah."

 

You know.

 

Finally, she smiles, and it's like the sun comes out. Her entire face goes soft. "Good. Go to school. Eat something. Take a shower. Drink some water. You're going to be fine." She says. "I love you."

 

"Bye. Love you." It's even true, most of the time.

 

After the call ends, you stare up at the ceiling, face blank. A bubble of resentment forms in your throat. Sometimes… you wished she loved you less, just so you could go back to the peaceful dark without the guilt. You can't. It would destroy her.

 

You don't even have the energy to be frustrated at yourself. At this life, for making you exist again.

 

At your parents for making you want to try.

 

 

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

 

 

You drag yourself to school, step after heavy step. Noon has come and gone. You left your camera at home and your hands feel empty. There's no one at the gates. The white surgical mask itches against your face. You lean into the wind and let it blow the hair out of your eyes.

 

The gate is locked, but you pull yourself over the wall like it's nothing. Sometimes, it's like controlling a video game character.

 

No one tries to speak to you. You listen to the other students chatter like a radio you can't quite tune into. White noise distracts you from how little you feel about anything.

 

Your heart is slow in your chest. Insistent.

 

_Too loud._

 

You slump over your desk, head cradled in your arms.

 

Classmates whisper. There is the girl who flinched when you looked at her, the boy who keeps glancing at you, people you've shared a class with for the last six months - and if they died tomorrow you wouldn't miss them. Do you even know their names?

 

The day passed in snatches, until the bell goes off, and you move blindly with the crowd. The majority of students pull ahead of your slow, careful pace. Listening to teenage chatter has given you a low, insistent headache. It's like a second heart throbbing in your temples.

 

 _Too_ loud.

 

You want to sleep for a week.

 

A pair of feet enter into your view, and you ignore them - only they don't move and you stop just short of walking into the owner of the feet. You look up, a tiny spark flickering to life in your wasteland of a head.

 

"Heading home, Hana-chan?" The grey- haired boy says, flashing a smile he must think is charming. "I'll go with you! I could never let a girl walk by herself."

 

You stare blankly up at the person blocking your way. "Do I know you?"

 

His smile flickers like a candle in a gale. "Are you serious you bit-" He clears his throat and pastes the smile back on. "That's mean Hana-chan. I know we got off on the wrong foot last time-"

 

You brush past him.

 

Too. Loud.

 

A bruising grip jerks you around, throws you up against low brick wall surrounding the school grounds.

 

The boy's smile is gone. "That's rude Hana-chan."

 

He's a foot taller than you, and heavy with muscle. There's no one around. The other students are long gone.

 

If you were anyone else, you might be afraid of the threat in his eyes. It's not a look that belongs in a middle school student; one that said 'I see your fear, and I enjoy it'.

 

Nothing much scares you anymore.

 

Your heart and your head throb, loud, deafening. Your teeth are bare, behind the white mask. "Let go."

 

He sneers and his grip tightens. "Maybe you should ask nicely, whore. Not that I'd want Ryouta's leftovers. What, you couldn't fuck him good enough to make him pay attention to you anymore?" He leans into your face, bracketing your body against the school gate. "You're not even worth trying to seduce. "

 

You tilt your head, wrist on fire. Grounding. "Maybe you should work on hiding your jealousy better." Your voice is foreign, full of a smiling violence.

 

Haizaki's - you remember now - face goes blank. "What the fuck are you talking about."

 

"How long have you been gagging after Kise?"

 

His eyes go pinched. Wary. "What the fuck are you talking about."

 

You shrug, blood singing. "It's sort of... obvious. Ryouta this, Ryouta that - You should give it up. I don't think you have a chance with him." You meet his eyes. "It's not because you're a guy. It's because your personality is awful."

 

Your eye explodes into fire and you gasp, like you've been holding your breath for a long time. You touch your face and you - feel.

 

You _feel_.

 

The world is back in color again. Everything is sharper; everything is clear. Copper on your tongue. You touch your face and feel the blood smeared across it.

 

It's warm.

 

You look at him from the corner of your eye, keeping your head tilted. "Ow."

 

The nasty grin falters for one moment. That's not the reaction from a girl he's just punched in the face. Then the smirk comes back full force and he crosses his hands behind his head. "Gonna cry to your boyfriend, bitch? Oh wait - would he even care?"

 

You smile. "Jealousy is so _ugly._ "

 

He grabs your shirt and lifts you up from the ground, eyes murderous, fist cocked back again. "I'm going to enjoy this."

 

"Truth hurts." You say, and knee him in the balls.

 

Haizaki drops you with a small wheeze.

 

You land on your feet and brush off your uniform. "You wrinkled my shirt."

 

He glares at you. "I'll kill you."

 

"Sure, sure."

 

Haizaki isn't a pushover. With a snarl of rage, he swings a fist like he's been doing it all his life.

 

Fast.

 

You tilt your head and let the fist pass by harmlessly.

 

Not fast enough.

 

You kick out again, but he pulls back just in time. You push off the wall, settle into a kata. Kise joined the Judo club in elementary school and you let him practice with your sometimes before he moved on to soccer. The stance feels just as familiar now as it was three years ago.

 

You tug the surgical mask down so he can see the teeth in your smile. "You wanna go? Let's go."

 

Haizaki growls and lunges -

 

\- and a hand catches him mid lunge, stopping him cold.

 

You blink slowly, following from hand to wrist, from wrist to arm. Up and up, until you're looking into Murasakibara's unsmiling face.

 

For once, Murasakibara's not holding any sort of snack in his hands. His eyes are hard and sharp behind his bangs, so far from the normal boredom. "Haizaki should stop. Hitting girls isn't nice." His voice is low and serous. Deeper. "Even that one."

 

Not Haizakichin?

 

"Murasakibara." You say, for lack of anything better. "Akashi. Don't you have basketball?"

 

The red head gives you a polite smile. "Hanako. We finished a bit early. Kise and the others are still working." Than he looks at Haizaki and his eyes are cold and very, very angry. "Shougou, how nice of you to show up. You missed practice."

 

Haizaki freezes for one second before sneering. He jerks free of Murasakibara's grip and leans into Akashi's face and sneers. "Fuck off, Akashi."

 

"I beg your pardon?" Akashi says. Cold. Brittle. "I don't think I heard that right."

 

Haizaki laughed, short and bright. Scared. "Relax, captain. Me and Hana-chan were just having a little chat. I wanted to apologize for losing my temper last time."

 

Akashi looked at you, red eyes flicking from your eye to the blood crusting on your chin. "And the blood?"

 

"Just a little roughhousing between friends. Isn't that right, Hana-chan?" He flashes you a fake smile. "Sorry about that. Forgive me?"

 

You stare at him. Did he really expect you to get him out of this?

 

"No. I don't." You say. "We're not friends. You attacked me."

 

Murasakibara tilted his head. "Haizaki is a liar."

 

Akashi smiled. "I see."

 

Haizaki dropped the smile for an offended look. "What, you're going to believe her over me?" He looked at Murasakibara. "You don't even like her!"

 

"I don't." He agrees.

 

Haizaki gestures at him like that's proof. "See? Murasakibara agrees-"

 

"Hanachin isn't a liar, though." Murasakibara says.

 

You… don't know how to respond to that. So you don't. Now that the threat of violence is gone , the brief surge of emotion is wearing off. You still feel a little numb, but not like you were.

 

Your heart isn't as loud.

 

Luckily, Akashi is does. "So. A member of the basketball team attacked a female student. Your laps are triple for the rest of the school year." His tone is subzero and his face is stone. "Starting today, you are no longer a starter."

 

Haizaki stared at Akashi, mouth opening and closing. "What? That's bullshit!"

 

How many girls had he menaced like this, without consequences? Your grip on your bag goes tight at the thought.

 

Akashi gives him a look. "Quadrupled. I'll speak to the coach."

 

"You can't do that. I'm one of your best players!"

 

"You seem to be laboring under a misconception, Shougou. You are not _irreplaceable_. Ryouta, in fact, is ready to take a bigger role in the team."

 

Haizaki's face is the picture of rage. "Fuck you, Akashi. I'm tired of your holier than thou act. You're nothing but a spoiled rich kid who sucked Nijimura's dick to get where you are. I'll quit if you give it to him."

 

Murasakibara stares at Haizaki, than steps back next to you. Out of Akashi's line of sight. "Haizaki is _dumb._ "

 

"I'll second that." You say under your breath without thinking.

 

The two of you look at each other, startled. You scowl and look away.

 

Agreeing with Murasakibara, gross.

 

Akashi's voice comes out mild as milk. "Is that so? I'll file the paperwork. Goodbye, Shougou. The teachers be informed of your... actions today."

 

Haizaki blinked. "W-what?"

 

Akashi turns away from him, looks at you. "Hanako, are you alright? I must apologize for taking so long. Let's get that looked at." He gently steers you away from the gate.

 

You glance over your shoulder at the stunned Haizaki. Than you shrug and let Akashi lead you. "Sure."

 

Actions have consequences.

 

You don't owe Haizaki shit.

 

 

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

 

 

The two of you are quiet on the way home. Murasakibara made a face and wandered off towards a convenience store somewhere on the way.

 

You look up at dark windows in your apartment building.

 

"Ryouta stayed late to practice with Daiki and Tetsuya." Akashi says.

 

Your eye throbs. "Oh." You walk up the stairs.

 

The stairwell is empty at this time of day. You open the door, hands steady, and turn to look at Akashi.

 

The two of you regard each other for a long moment.

 

"You're not going away, are you." You say.

 

He gives you a smile. "And leave a delicate girl like yourself alone? I would never."

 

You roll your eyes, enter, flick on the lights. You leave the door open behind you.

 

Akashi follows.

 

The house is large for two high-school students, especially in Tokyo. The front door opens into the kitchen and beyond that is the living room with it's massive TV. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms. There's a third bedroom you commandeered to act as a dark room. Your parents spared no expense. Most of the walls are covered in photos you liked enough to print out and hang up.

 

You catch Akashi glancing at the photographs. "What?"

 

"Did you take these?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"They're… very good."

 

People always sound so surprised when they say that. You have no idea why. It's not like you're shy about how good you are.

 

"I know." You say.

 

For some reason that makes Akashi smile. It's a strange, sweet thing. "Indeed. Do you have a first aid kit?"

 

You do. You grab it from under the bathroom sink and Akashi takes it. He sits on the ugly couch and looks expectantly at you.

 

You don't move from the doorway. "I can do it myself."

 

He tilts his head. "I know."

 

Maybe he's just trying to manipulate you into helping him out with the dating thing. Maybe Akashi really is just concerned about a girl he saw get punched. Maybe Akashi has plans you don't know about.

 

After a second you slump down on the couch, facing him.

 

You're tired of being alone.

 

Neither of you talk while he bandages the scrape you don't remember getting on your knee and the cut under your eye. They sting but you don't make a sound. Your face throbs and you revel in it. Pain is the only thing that seems real right now. Precious red hot points of life on this foreign body, marking it as yours.

 

You exist.

 

Here and now, you are alive.

 

You lean back against the wall and tilt your head up, close your eyes. The sun is a warm hand across your forehead.

 

Finally, Akashi puts first aide kit down. "That's as good as it's going to get, I think. Your eye will swell up. You'll need to ice it."

 

"The girlfriend thing." You say, eyes still closed. "I'll do it."

 

You can feel him pause. "I - oh. What made you change your mind?" He asks.

 

You shrug. "Masochism?"

 

"Hanako."

 

You open your eyes with a shrug. "It's something to do."

 

Akashi studies you for one long moment. Than he offers you his hand. "A deal, then."

 

You shake it.

 

You only realize how tense he is when the line of his spine relaxes and he gives you a small, real smile. "That's a weight off my shoulders."

 

You shrug again. "What are the parameters?"

 

Akashi crosses his legs. "Boundaries, you mean? For this to work, we'd have to be close. My father often has my activities monitored. He wouldn't be fooled by a weak show."

 

"Your dad spies on you." You say. "That's messed up, Akashi."

 

"Like that. You need to call me by my first name -" He paused. "Your parents don't have bodyguards to keep an eye on you?"

 

"No. They trust me to tell them I need help."

 

Akashi's clearly ...didn't.

 

Akashi's brows draw down, confused. Then he shakes his head and changes the subject.

 

Whatever. Akashi the elder's shitty parenting isn't your problem.

 

Yet.

 

Eventually you hash out all the details. He would introduce you as his girlfriend tomorrow. Any dates that took place would have to be planned at least a week in advance. Your photo-shoots came first, his basketball practice. You would hang out with him in public areas where any spys his father had would report back. Neither of you would attempt anything more physical than holding hands without asking for consent first, except in emergencies, whatever they may be.

 

He leaves two hours later with a promise to come pick you up tomorrow in his car.

 

The apartment is quiet, except for the ticking clock in the kitchen. Kise still isn't home. You glance at your phone. The last text is two weeks ago, from your dad.

 

The dark, quiet place in your dreams is a siren call.

 

You grab your coat and camera. Shut the door and lock it behind you. Head off into the dark.

 

Sleep would be a bad idea.

 

 

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

 

 

Dating Akashi is like kicking over a beehive. Full of honey, but liable to get your stung. You don't realize just how many people know him, or know of him until you show up in the same car. He helps you out of the front like a gentleman.

 

People pointed to you in the school now. Especially the girls.

 

It's worse than grade school.

 

The miracles reactions are funny though.

 

"Are you _serious_?" Aomine demands.

 

"Quite." Akashi - _Seijuro_ replies.

 

You take one of the carrots out of his bento. The crunch is loud in the flabbergasted silence.

 

Hilarious.

 

Murasakibara recovers first. He whips his head around to stare at Akashi. "Akachin, no. No."

 

Midorima looks like the entire world offends him.

 

You're in the cafeteria again, sitting at the same table. The generation of Miracles are creatures of habit.

 

Kasumi always sends you designer makeup, even though you never use it. For once it comes in handy. All of the evidence of yesterday is hidden away, like it never existed.

 

Seijuro continues to ignore them, face serene. It's only the corner of his eyes that give away how amused he is. You lean against him casually, pick at his lunch. You don't have much of an appetite lately.

 

Murasakibara stares at the two of you with a deeply betrayed look on his face. "Akachin, don't date her. She's gross."

 

Seijuro merely smiled. "That's a matter of opinion, Atsushi."

 

You give him the peace sign.

 

Murasakibara makes an appalled noise.

 

Aomine is still staring. "You're dating Akashi?" His voice is two parts shocked and one part impressed - like you punched him but it looked too cool to be mad about it. "But you won't play me in basketball?"

 

Kuroko doesn't roll his eyes but it's clear he wants to. "Those things have nothing to do with each other, Aomine-kun."

 

This time, Aomine only jumps a little bit. "They do too! It's not like she's scared of me, if she's dating Akashi."

 

Kuroko ignores him. "Congratulations, Akashi-kun."

 

You hum under your breath, just a noise to acknowledge you're listening.

 

Kise still hasn't said anything. He stares down at his tray, face blank.

 

"This is a surprise." Midorima says, tone making it clear it's an unpleasant one. He adjusted his glasses. "When - how did this happen?"

 

"Yeah." Kise said, voice quiet. The air went tense. "I'd like to know that too."

 

And he sounded… hurt.

 

A seed of irritation flared. What right did he have to sound hurt? Like he's spoken more than two words to you in the past five days.

 

You lean against the table, head on hands. "You were busy." You say. "I'm telling you now."

 

Kise meets your eyes for one long moment. Then he looks back down at his tray, mouth pulled tight. "I see."

 

No one speaks.

 

"Wait," Aomine says. "I thought Kise was dating Hana - ow!"

 

Kuroko withdrew his elbow from Aomine's stomach, face blank. "Aomine-kun needs to learn to read the mood."

 

 

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,., 

 

 

Nijimura finds you on the roof one day when the whispers get too annoying. You lay out in the sun, your blazer behind your head. You can almost feel the irritation radiating off him like the rays of the sun.

 

He stands over you. "Skipping again, Hana?"

 

"Not on your team. Not your problem." You say without opening your eyes.

 

"So what? What kind of upperclassmen would I be if I let you just do whatever you want?" He nudges your bare legs, hard. "Stop being a brat. Go back to school and do something about Kise. He's moping and it's weird. He keeps getting mobbed in the halls."

 

You scowl. "Get Kuroko to do it."

 

Nijimura sighs. "Kuroko is busy."

 

" _I'm_ busy."

 

He snorts.

 

There's a quiet moment.

 

Finally you hear the rustle of fabric as he sits down. "So. You and Akashi, huh?"

 

You finally open your eyes. There's something in his voice… something you can't read in his tone. "Yeah."

 

"How'd that happen?"

 

You shrug. "He asked."

 

He looks up and you can't see his expression. "Just like that."

 

You look at him. Watch the way his shoulders tense. His back stays straight. His white-knuckled fists. "You're angry at me."

 

Nijimura hesitates a beat to long. "I'm not."

 

That was convincing. You raise one brow.

 

He - sighs, one long breath that drains the tension from his body. "Sometimes," he says, voice quiet enough the breeze almost carries it away. "It's like everything I want just… falls into your lap. Makes it hard to like you, Hana."

 

Inhale. Exhale. "You expecting an apology?"

 

"No!" Nijimura ran a hand through his hair. "It's just - I'm just being petty. Sorry, Hana. Forget I said anything."

 

_You didn't asked for this._

 

The words are bitter, on your tongue, in your throat. Because - you didn't ask. Existing is so, so difficult. Your heart is still too loud to sleep sometimes.

 

People, gone. Places, gone. Your face.

 

All _g_ o _ne_.

 

Inhale. Exhale. Let it go.

 

You sigh. "Graduation in three weeks."

 

Nijimura takes the subject change with good grace. "Yeah. Akashi will do fine, even if I'm not here." He pauses.

 

"What?"

 

"The offer you gave me. Is it still open?"

 

You tilt your head. Offer?

 

Oh.

 

"You want the job?"

 

He crosses his legs. "I don't have any better offers; well, not legal ones."

 

"Alright. I'll set up a meeting for you."

 

He blinks. "What, just like that?"

 

You shrug. Life's too short to hold grudges.

 

He pushes himself to his feet, and holds out a hand to you.

 

You let him pull you up.

 

Nijimura ruffles your hair, smile on his face. "You're a good kid."

 

Scowling, you bat his hand away. "And you sound like an old man."

 

He laughs. "Respect your elders, you brat."

 

Three weeks pass in a blink, and then Nijimura is gone, diploma in hand. Your dad agrees to take him on a trail basis, but you don't have any doubts about

Nijimura's work ethic. He'll be fine.

 

You spend the summer with Kasumi in America. Making connections. Making plans. Taking photographs.

 

It's fun. You feel lighter, younger. 

 

Returning to Japan feels like putting on a shirt you outgrew a long time ago. You almost turn around and book another flight.

 

The passport is heavy in your bag.

 

You'll go back, you promise yourself while staring out the taxi window. Eyes on the horizon. You'll go back, and further still. All the places you never had a chance to see before. 

 

For now, your third year at Teikou begins.

 

 

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright, i finally got my ass in gear and finished this thing. I deleted like five thousand words just to make this mess readable. 
> 
> next time - 11-111
> 
> questions? comments? criticisms? I read em all, don't be shy.


	7. VII

**Chapter VII**  
  
The day Akashi _changes_ is just like any other. In fact, you don't notice until he stops to speak to you after class. The first sign of it comes from the students around him. People bow and scrape to get out of his way. Faster than before, even. One girl catches his gaze and goes the color of old newspaper, before bolting away like a fawn spotted by a starving wolf.  
  
Curious, you drift over to the door, only find Akashi standing there, hands tucked behind his back, polite smiles on his face, and a homicidal grace in his eyes.  
  
You glance at the students, as they huddle together like doves as a hawk circles overhead.  
  
What are they so scared of?  
  
Red hair, placid expression, barely concealed contempt for the stupidity of the people around him. Somehow managing to politely ignore the whole room.  
  
He looks like himself.

 Just less subtle about it.  
  
Akashi looks up, catches your eyes. "Hana."  
  
One of his eyes glints in the light.  
  
_Gold._  
  
It's like being pushed off ground you knew was crumbling, knew would fail sometime in the future. You never expected it to catch you so off-guard.  
  
...So this is where it ends, huh?  
  
"Something wrong?" Akashi asks.  
  
You lean against him like he's your personal resting post, your front pressed to his, your arms draped over his shoulders like a living scarf. He doesn't flinch at taking your weight, or react much at all. "Hey, so. Your eye is gold. What's up with that?"  
  
His smile is very polite, very homicidal, and very close to your throat. Someone behind you squeaks. "Nothing that you need to concern yourself with. I feel fine. Better than ever, in fact."  
  
You tilt your head, close enough to count his eyelashes. "If you say so."  
  
He hums and you feel it vibrate through your skull. "I do say so."  
  
It's a little sad. You can feel time slipping through your hands, like trying to hold onto sand.  
  
Akashi is fun. You might even call him a friend.  
  
"What did you want, anyway?" You ask.  
  
"I received two tickets to the Ai Yusuke gallery from one of my father's business associates. Would you like to go?"  
  
The tone makes it clear that it''s not a question.  
  
Ai Yusuke is a photographer you sometimes work with. Fairly good - not as good as you, but honestly, who was? He did babble something about some sort of award and made some sort of charity donation, blah blah _blah_ . Should be interesting enough. If you're going to suffer through a crowd of people, it might as well be something you like.  
  
You haven't met Akashi's father yet, but you know the places Akashi takes you are full of people who report back to him. Must be one of those things.  
  
"Sorry, I have a thing that day." You say. "Can't get out of it."  
  
You don't flinch when those eyes - one familiar red, one alien gold - meet yours. They're not pleased, and you feel the command in them.  
  
You keep your face bland, unconcerned.  
  
Why should you be? You do have something to do that day. It's a small job for a minor magazine that you weren't really interested in, but it's better than being forced into meeting Akashi senior.  
  
More importantly.  
  
Akashi ain't the boss of you.  
  
Finally Akashi nods, gracious as a king conceding a favor and slips out of your hold. "I'll pick you up after school." It's a declaration of fact. Gravity pulls, the sun shines, Akashi Seijurou will pick you up after school.  
  
You fold your arms, fingers tapping and you watch him walk away without waiting for your reply.  
  
The end of middle school. That's how long you promised Akash, and now it feels like far too much.

 You'll uphold your promise.  
  
Beyond that, you don't have to be involved.  
  
So you're won’t be.  
  
The photographs you take go bigger and bigger, and your life goes on. Offers start pouring in, and your time disappears. Most days your only contact with cannon is Akashi texting you for your whereabouts. Basketball drama takes up a very small percentage of your life, and you work hard to make it that way.  
  
Like all good things, it doesn't last.  
  
The day of 111-11 approaches like a freight train, and you don't get out of the way in time.

 

**-**

 

It feels strange to wear casual clothes around a school. Like the feeling of a clammy hand running up your spine. The day is hot, breezy, and suffocating inside the gym bleachers. You're on the lowest tier, just behind the Rakuzan bench.  
  
Probably. You can't spot anyone you know among the players and both teams look the same to you.

 What were the team colors again?  
  
You lean back, cheap plastic chair squeaking, designer sunglasses (a gift from Kasumi) perched on your nose.  
  
Honestly, the only reason you're here is your model got sick in the middle of the shoot. Fever, sweating, mumbling, the works. It got worse when you were around so you wrapped the whole thing up early. You snap a bubble, irritated. The rest of the crew kept giving you pitying looks for some reason. Usually they just avoid you, and you’re not enjoying the change.  
  
Whatever. You adjust the sights on your camera. It's one of the professional grade ones you normally don't bring to school. It'd be a waste of time to go home just to drop it off, though.  
  
Your things tend to vanish at school.  
  
You bring the camera to your eye, slowly adjust the focus. A sea of dark hair and uniforms, the yellow court, the white light. It's natural that your eye is drawn to the only contrasting point.  
  
Soft pink hair and a teal sweater. With her head down and her back to you, Momoi doesn't look real, like a watercolor person on a black background. Her hair catches the light and holds it.  
  
_Click._ _  
_  
You blink and it's like a spell has broken. Sound rushes back in. You glance down at the hands on the camera like they don't belong to you, like they have a mind of their own.

When you look up a pair of pink eyes catches your own.  
  
For one small eternity, your heart feels quiet. Something expands your chest, and you don't dare move for fear of it spilling over.  
  
Then Momoi smiles and you can breath again. She waves you over.  
  
You vault over the low railing in front of the bleachers and drop to seven or so feet to the ground; you land on you feet, camera in one hand, sunglasses in the other.  
  
_Stairs are for losers._ _  
_ _  
_ You make your way over, stare at one of the second string members until, face pale, he moves, and you sit next to Momoi.  
  
"I almost didn't recognize you, Hana-chan. Your clothes are so cute!" Momoi says.  
  
You glance down. It's a simple thing dark red shirt Kise outgrew, a bomber jacket and a pair of artfully ripped jeans. "My older sister thinks my fashion sense is a crime against nature. She sends me clothes from america."

 “Really? How cool!” She tugs at the fabric of your jacket. “I haven’t seen you around lately. Akashi didn’t mention that you’d come around today.”  
  
“It’s a surprise.” You say. "Had a thing. Took care of the thing. It's all good."  
  
"Always so articulate, Hana-chan." Momoi says with a laugh that makes her eyes light up. "Akashi is still getting the team meeting done, if you wanted to wait for him."  
  
"Team meeting? Why are you out here?"  
  
She blinks. "What?"  
  
"Well, you're part of the team right? Why are you out here?"  
  
Momoi's mouth opens and closes.  
  
You lean forward, hand on head and look up at her. You're not blind. Without Momoi's dedication, they wouldn't have much of an information network.

 Akashi knows that.  
  
Momoi clears her throat and shuffles the stack of papers on her lap. " _Well._ Thank you, Hana-chan. I'm not that important though, and Akashi has everything handled so I decided to check you the rest of the team and _basket-ball basket-ball blah blah sports-_ "  
  
You stop listening in favor of watching the sway of her hair. The shape of her lips. The tips of her ears are a delicate shade of pale pink. It makes your fingers itch. For the first time, you don't just want to look. To record.  
  
You want to _touch_ .  
  
You study her heart-melting face, her pale skin, her cotton candy hair, her pale eyes, sparking with thought. Linger over her soft looking lips, dark and - moving?  
  
_Um._  
  
"Hana-chan, are you listening?"  
  
You blink and drag your eyes away from her mouth. "Sorry. You lost me."  
  
Momoi frowns. "Are you sure you're feeling alright, Hana-chan? Akashi will understand if you have to go home."  
  
Or right. Your boyfriend.

 You wave your hand like you're brushing off her concern. "No, it's fine. I'm just a little out of it. Go on."  
  
She's clearly not fooled, by the look she gives you. "...Alright. Tell me if you start feeling sick, okay? I have some honey lemon slices."  
  
You clear your throat. "Nah. I’m fine."

“If you say so. Anyway, I was talking with the other managers and --”  
  
She describes gathering and analyzing data, and you have to tear your eyes from her hair three more times.

 _What the hell, brain?_  
  
A flash of red out of the corner of your eye. You don't flinch when a possessive hand finds your shoulder.  
  
You lean back, looking into Akashi’s face upside down. "Yo, Akashi."  
  
Akashi raises an eyebrow. "Hana. I thought you were busy today?"  
  
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Momoi's shoulders go tense.  
  
You flash him a smile. "I finished early and thought I'd be moral support, or whatever."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"I'm supporting Momoi. It's so unfair to have her do all this work alone. Shame on you, Captain."  
  
Momoi blinks.  
  
You give her a wide eyed, innocent look.  
  
_Play along._ _  
_  
She blinks again, and smiles at Akashi too. Her shoulders ease down, with you between her and him. "That's right. I hope you don't mind me borrowing Hana-chan for a while?"  
  
Akashi seems more amused than irritated. His gold eye is stark against red hair. "So long as you return her, Satsuki."  
  
Momoi flashes him a pretty, perfect smile. "Of _course_ , captain."  
  
It doesn't reach her eyes.  
  
You tilt your head.  
  
How long has Momoi known that something is slightly... off about this Akashi? You don't see them interact enough to know.  
  
A _long_ shadow stretches across the bench.  
  
"Akachin, Kisechin is being - why are _you_ here? Go away." Murasakibara says.  
  
"Wishing my boyfriend luck, duh." You say. Then, just to be obnoxious, you reach out for Akashi's hand.  
  
He lets you have it.  
  
You brush your lips against the back of it like he's a fairy tale princess, or a king. You don't look away from Murasakibara's eyes as you do it.  
  
He gags. "So. Gross."  
  
"Don't you have a game to slack off in?"  
  
"I'll _crush_ you -"  
  
A blur of yellow and black barrels into Murasakibara's back, and he barely shifts. "Ow, what are you made of? Stone? Anyway, Akashicchi don't listen to a thing he says, he started it - Hana!"  
  
A prickle of discomfort inches up your neck. "Yo, Kise."  
  
Kise stares, still hanging onto Murasakibara like a blonde limpet. You can't read his expression. "Hanacchi -"  
  
The referee blows an ear piercing note, cutting off whatever Kise was going to say.  
  
Murasakibara glowers down at you.  
  
Akashi keeps smiling, peaceful. "Come, Atsushi. Kise."  
  
Murasakibara clicks his tongue, but he goes.  
  
You roll your eyes. What a big baby.  
  
Kise is still staring at you, eyes reflective as gold and twice as opaque.  
  
"Kise." Akashi says, tone serene.  
  
He jerks around like Akashi pulled some invisible string. "I'm here, I'm here!"  
  
You keep your hand still, not matter how much they want to shake.  
  
Momoi's eyes flick between you and Kise's retreating back, but she doesn't say whatever she's thinking. Instead she sighs. "Why do the two of you hate each other so much? I swear it came out of nowhere."  
  
You blink. "Who? Kise?"  
  
"No! Murasakibara, of course."  
  
"Why..." You lean back and look at the ceiling, the lights create spots of white on your vision.  
  
Why _do_ you hate him?  
  
"His stupid face." You decide.  
  
The apathy on it.  
  
The _familiarity_ .  
  
Murasakibara is you, on days when you don't _want_ to be you. Murasakibara is proud. Talented. He could do anything, could be anything - but that's not what he wants.  
  
He wants to sleep. To eat. To be left alone.  
  
When he dies, he'll enjoy the dark.  
  
Momoi stares at you. "T-that's it?"  
  
You shrug. "Isn't that enough?"  
  
Momoi's face does something complicated, before a helpless smile spreads across her face. "You're not at all like I imagined you, Hana-chan."  
  
You examine your nails. "I have layers. Like an onion."  
  
She laughs and it's like a spark jumps from her mouth to your stomach, setting off a wave that shivers up your whole body and centers in your chest, your heart.  
  
You press a hand to your heart, like that'll stop it.  
  
Did you catch something from the model?  
  
You catch a flash of blue out of the corner of your eye.  
  
Kuroko is difficult to focus on, even normally. In the middle of the crowd, you have to concentrate to keep your eyes on him.  
  
"Why's Kuroko in the stands?" You ask. Have you ever seen him anywhere but on the bench?  
  
Momoi lights up like a lamp. "He is? Where?"  
  
You point. "Right there."  
  
Her nose scrunched as she tries follow your eyeline. "I don't see him." She sighs. "Akashi made him sit out today. Then he disappeared. I don't know why he didn't just join me.  
  
You raise an eyebrow.  
  
She bites her lips and whispers, lips almost brushing your cheek. She smells like mint and something floral. "He got hurt in the last game. Kise didn't tell you?"  
  
Kise doesn't talk to you much anymore.  
  
You look back at the stands -- but Kuroko's gone, lost in a sea of last minute arrivals. There are more people than you'd thought there be for a middle school game.  
  
At first, the game is the same as any other. You lose interest as soon as the ball touches the ground, paying more attention to Momoi and your camera then the teams.

 The atmosphere is of the team is … strange. Almost relaxed.  
  
Ten, twenty, thirty - the score climbs and every point drives the uneasiness a little deeper. All of the miracles look _bored_ . Murasakibara, shadow long and dark, knocks the ball out of another teen's hands, but he doesn't chase it. Aomine snatches it, drives up toward the center with Kise close on his heels. Almost like the two of them are competing, rather than the actual opposing team.  
  
Murasakibara yawns.  
  
Kise passes to Midorima, who makes yet another basket. The swish of the net is loud over the nearly silent crowd.  
  
Akashi's gold eye glints in the harsh lights.

You eyes flick to the exit. No one is paying attention to you, to fixed on the trainwreck happening on the court. You don’t want to watch the crash and burn of a group of friends, people you know and sometimes even like. You slide on your sunglasses, stow away your camera, and stand.  
  
Something tugs on your jacket, and you look down.  
  
Momoi's fingers are curled tight in you blazer and her eyes are worried on Aomine's rampage across the court. Her teeth catch her lips. "Dai-kun…"  
  
You sigh and sit back down.  
  
She never lets go, and she never looks at you.  
  
Through it all, Akashi keeps his polite smile. His blank eyes, one red, one gold, both distant, never once looked at the scoreboard.  
  
And then it's over.  
  
You don't see Kuroko anywhere at all.

 

**-**

You sit on the bench, in the empty stadium bleachers.  
  
Momoi is long gone, with the rest of the team.  
  
The squeak of sneakers on the court. You feel Akashi's eyes on you before you look up.  
  
You give a half-hearted salute. "Hey."  
  
Akashi sits next to you, nearly on top of your legs. "You didn’t go with the team." He takes your hand and turns it over in his own, like it's a book in a language he's fluent in. His smile is gone for once; he seems like his old self. "Are you done avoiding me?"  
  
You consider the question. "Yeah. I think so."  
  
It's already too late. The end is on the horizon and you're tired of being left alone to your thoughts.  
  
You’re fifteen (again). Middle school is almost done. Spending the last of it with Akashi isn't so bad.  
  
You lean onto one hand, watch the sinking sun paint the whole room red and gold. Your skin banded in the colors of the boy next to you.  
  
Akashi leans into you. "No apology?"  
  
You snort.

He smiles. It's not a nice expression. "I do enjoy how forward you are. What did you think of the game today?"  
  
"It was certainly… something."  
  
"Not going to praise me? How cruel, Hana."  
  
"Do I not sound amazed?" You ask, voice at it's most deadpan.  
  
He chuckles. "Feeling sorry for the defeated?"  
  
Akashi is like a black hole. The center and pillar of his own personal universe. Anything not strong enough to hold steady gets pulled in, and they don't get back out.  
  
Are you strong enough?  
  
You laugh. "Have I ever been sympathetic to anyone?"  
  
Akashi smiles again, this time a touch realer; he nudged your shoulder almost like old Akashi did. "No. That's why you are _almost_ my equal."  
  
It's an interesting way to spend your last year, at the very least.  
  
"Only almost?"  
  
"Perhaps if you actually put in some effort, you might be one day."  
  
You pretend to consider that. "Nah. Sounds boring."  
  
He stands, pulls you up by your still connected hands. "Let's go. I've made reservations at an italian place."  
  
You let him pull you up, walk together but apart. "Good. I'm starving."

 

**-**

You don't notice the slow slide into quiet until it Kise comes home early from a modeling job one night. You enter the door and there Kise is, just sitting at the kitchen counter. Once, this wouldn't have surprised you. Once, you would have waited until he returned from practice to eat together.  
  
Now, the two of you lock eyes and you don't know what to say. The words just - won't come.  
  
Kise turns the mug around in his hand. "Hanacchi is late. Akashicchi took you out for dinner?" He finally says.  
  
"...Yeah."  
  
Kise nods and turns the mug in his hands again.  
  
You open your mouth - and nothing comes out.

  
You don't know how to talk to him anymore.  
  
"Do you love him?" Kise asks.  
  
It takes on long second to understand the words, for you to register the meaning.

 "Do I… what?"  
  
Love _Akashi_ ?  
  
That sounds dangerous.  
  
Kise ducks his head, but that doesn't stop you from seeing the blush spreading up his face. "...Nevermind. It's a stupid question.”  
  
The scent of hot chocolate fills the silence. "Is something wrong?" You ask.  
  
He starts, looks up. "Oh. No, just… thinking." He… lies.  
  
Kise is lying.  
  
To _you_ .  
  
Kise is lying to you.  
  
It's startles the both of you, because his eyes go wide. Go startled.  
  
But he doesn't take it back and he doesn't say anything else.  
  
You hesitate in the doorway, waiting for - something. Nothing else comes. Your hands fist in your pockets. "...Goodnight." You say.  
  
Kise opens his mouth, and then shuts it. He clears his throat. "Night."

 

**-**

 

You flip toss the book up in the air, whistling some pop song you heard on the radio this morning. The photo-shoot with Kiss, an american candy company is tomorrow. You're looking forward to it. It'll get you out of the house for a while at least.

A flash of blue stops you just short of running headlong into Kuroko.  
  
The two of you pause. The air is thick with something you hesitate to call awkwardness. It's too prickly for that. Too heavy. Too dark.  
  
"You look like shit." You say.  
  
He does. His hair hasn't been combed. Dark circles live under his eyes, and his normally pale skin is milk white.

His eyes are flat disks set in his head. "Hana-san is quite rude."

You shrug and walk past him. "True. Later, dude."  
  
"Did you _know_ ?"  
  
The words halt you. The chatter of students drifts down the hall, somewhere far away. "About what?  
  
"The game." You hear the scuff of shoes on the floor. The rustle of clothes. His blank eyes on your back. "You were on the bench. Either you're heartless as you seem, or you already knew."  
  
You tap the book on your thigh. "Why can't it be both?"  
  
The sun still shines but the temperature drops to sub zero.  
  
"Akashi told you. What he was planning."  
  
"Not really." Future knowledge due to reincarnation probably won't go over well here.

A cold hand grabs your wrist and pulls you around, facing him.  
  
It's most emotion you've ever seen in him.

His eyes _burn_ .  
  
Is this what Kise sees in him?  
  
The thought almost escape out of your mouth, but you catch it, pull it back into the dark where it belongs. You refuse to give Kuroko, of all people, that part of you. That pathetic, _childish_ hurt.

"You could have said something." He says, flat, hard. "Akashi listens to you, you could have -"  
  
"And _why_ ," You say. " Would I do that?"

Your wrist aches. Your mind burns.  
  
"Empathy? _Basic human decency_ ?" Kuroko glares at you. "Perhaps that's too much to ask. I don’t even know if you’re half a person.  Are you even _capable_ of emotion?"  
  
The words hit you harder than a physical blow.  
  
How dare he.  
  
How _dare_ he.  
  
Isn't the source of your problems speaking to you? Isn't it his fault that Kise doesn't listen to you anymore? To stuck on his stupid infatuation to come home, leaving you alone in that empty house, where you slowly forget how to be a person? Nothing but the dark, the peace. The drawer full of knives in the kitchen.  
  
It would be so _easy_ .  
  
"Maybe," you say, quiet as him. "You should ask yourself that same question. Isn't Akashi your friend? Why didn't you see this coming, Kuroko? Why didn't you stop him?"  
  
He flinches.

Drops your wrist like it burned him, takes one step back. "I-"  
  
You're already turning away, hands aching with unspent violence. Something bitter fills your mouth. You want to break his blank mask with more than just words. You want to show him the inside of your head, all the sharp things you keep to yourself.  
  
_But._  
  
Kise loves him.  
  
So you bury the rage back into the black. It's hard. It's the hardest thing you've ever done, outside of staying alive, but you unclench your fists. Straighten out your blazer and tie. Smooth out your face into the normal expression of bored blankness. Indifference comes like breathing.  
  
You turn back to him and give him a nod. "If that's all, Kuroko, I have a book to return."  
  
It's not a question.  
  
Kuroko's face is still white, but he inhales. You watch the same thing happen on his face - the anger drains out him like a wave pulling back from the shore. He returns your nod, cool and polite. "Ryugawa-san."  
  
You walk away. The sound of his shoes clicking against the tiles grows fainter in opposite direction.

 

-

 

You and Kise move around each other in a familiar dance. Clubs let out the last week of the school and you let yourself relax, drain the tension. You don't talk, but you wait for him to get done with his morning routine.  
  
He pushes his hair back and gives you a startled smile. For once it reaches his eyes. "Ready?"  
  
You study him. Think about the passport in your bag. Your half packed room.  
  
If this is the last time you see his face, you want to remember it.  
  
"Smile," You say.  
  
Old habits die hard, and Kise gives the camera a blinding grin.  
  
_Click._  
  
Kise blinks the flash out of his eyes and laughs. "You haven't changed at all, Hana."  
  
No. You haven't.  
  
You keep that bitter thought behind your teeth. Offer him your fist.  
  
He bumps it.  
  
The walk to school is long and quiet - but companionable. You don't feel that prickly sense of loss, that rejection. Right now, you and he are the same.  
  
The two of you part into the separate classes, still without speaking. The old familiarity is still strained; he's changed to much to fit in with someone like you who lacks the capacity for it.  
  
The crowd shifts around you like a school of fish around a shark. Eyes, hostile, follow you.  
  
You glance up and catch the eye of a girl a year in the year below you. She flinches back, the sneer falling off her face. She looks vaguely familiar - one of the would-be bullies who tried to make you as pathetic as they are.  
  
You snort and turn away.  
  
The sooner you can leave people like her behind, the better.

 The graduation ceremony is long and dull in the way all endings are. Tears flow, but not yours.  
  
All you feel is relief.

You're done.

Finally, you're done.  
  
After the ceremony is over, people break into groups. Parents and children crying with each other, friends tearfully promise to keep in touch, students thanking teachers. You drift along the edges of the crowd like a ghost. No one approaches you to take their picture, despite to camera in your hands.  
  
You wave half heartedly to the blindingly beautiful Kise family, gathered around Kise. Neither of your parents are in the country right now, and you're glad. You don't have to pretend to feel anything about graduating.  
  
"Hana."  
  
You glance over your shoulder, face blank. "Akashi."  
  
His school uniform is made of sharp lines and precise angles, a contrast to you half buttoned shirt and undone tie. His eyes sweep over your clothes. "My father is here."  
  
It's half warning, half order.  
  
You've never met Akashi senior, despite three or so years of fake dating.

Breaking that streak would be a shame.  
  
"Is that so." You say.  
  
"Please dress a little more appropriately. I do not care, but he will."  
  
"Welp." You cross your hands behind your head. "It's been fun. Later, Akashi."  
  
He turns to look at you. "Pardon me?"  
  
You shrug. "I'm done. Middle school is over, and I'm not going to high school. Doubt dear old dad wants you dating a drop out. See you later. Or not. Whichever."  
  
Akashi tilts his head. "Of course you’re going to highschool. Collage as well."  
  
You raise your eyebrow.  
  
His voice is very calm. Very sure. This is how the world shall be, forever and ever, amen. "You will be attending Rakuzan with me. You never mentioned a preference, so I arranged it."  
  
He... _arranged_ it.  
  
You hum.  
  
Akashi nods once, with satisfaction. "You didn't apply to any of the other prominent schools in the area. If you have a preference for one that's not to far away, that would be fine. As long as it's a fitting place for a future member of the Akashi family." His phone beeped and he glanced at it. "The car has arrived. I've made arrangements at a nice restaurant, in celebration. I will formally introduce you to my father as my fiance. We'll have to make a stop and get you properly outfitted."  
  
_Fiance._ _  
_  
It's like the whole last few months snap into focus.  
  
Akashi, this new Akashi, is used to the best. Having the best things, winning the best awards, leading the best people.  
  
Akashi has decided on you, because you are the best.  
  
You didn't understand.  
  
Something cold creeps up your spine, staring at this boy who you might've called a friend.  
  
Akashi the Emperor has no friends.  
  
He has _subjects_ .  
  
The emperor turns to look at you, and his gold eye glints in the light. There's no concern on his face; there's only a small smile. "Something wrong, Hana?"  
  
You look down at your empty hands, clench them into fists. Your throat aches and your voice comes out quiet. "No. Nothing's wrong."  
  
"Come, then. My father is not a patient man."  
  
You shake your head, shove your hands in your uniform jacket. "Goodbye, Akashi. It was fun."  
  
_Too late now._

Five months too late, the loss stings. _  
_  
His brow creases. The smile fades. "Hana, please stop being difficult. There's really no -"  
  
"Akashi." You meet his eyes and you do not flinch. "I'm not attending Rakuzan. I'm not going to Kyoto. I'm not meeting your father. This is a breakup."  
  
His look of incomprehension would be funny, if it wasn't so strange.  
  
Akashi didn't get confused.  
  
If you had any room for it, you might feel some regret. If you were half the person you used to be, you might have stayed just for how lost he looks in this moment.

Akashi will have to explain to his father that his fiance broke up with him. The pressure will mount yet again.  
  
You're not that kind of person anymore.  
  
Selfishness is all you have left, most days.  
  
A long black limousine pulls up while Akashi is still trying to find the words he wants.  
  
"Your ride is here." You say.  
  
Akashi stares at you, eyes like knives. He doesn't move.  
  
A hard look settles over his face and you can see the moment he knows that there's nothing he can offer you that you can’t get yourself.

What makes you a perfect fiance also makes you untouchable. Your family is equal to his in power and influence, your skills and interests are in different places, and you don’t care about reputation.  
  
There's no lever in the world that can move you.  
  
"You will regret this." Akashi says, like an old time prophet speaking the will of god. "Without me, you will amount to nothing. I can provide you with anything you wish."  
  
You look up at the sky, and the smile on your face is bitter.  
  
What you wish...  
  
Peace, in the dark.

Raising one hand over your shoulder, you give him a single wave. "Goodbye Akashi."

 

-

 

"You have everything you need, Hana? Passport? Work visa? My address?" Kasumi's voice is grainy over the phone, half anxious, half teasing. Rain pours outside. Thunder rattles the windows.  
  
You roll your eyes, phone between shoulder and ear, careful not to drip on it. You already went out and got some nice shots. They'll go up on your blog tonight. "For the third time, yes. It's not my first flight."  
  
Her pout is audible. "I'm allowed to be worried about my delicate baby sister."  
  
Delicate.  
  
Riiight.  
  
"Anyway," Kasumi says. "Where's Ryouta? I don't hear him being a brat in the background. I thought you two were joined at the hip?"  
  
You don't blink, no matter how much your hands clench.  
  
Kasumi can smell weakness.  
  
"The basketball starters had a meeting." You say, voice even.  
  
"And... you didn't tag along?"  
  
"Not a starter."  
  
She laughs. "Like that's ever stopped you before."  
  
"I may have also broke up with their captain today. So."  
  
You doubt Akashi wants you there.  
  
You doubt you want to be anywhere near Akashi.  
  
"...That's red-head, right? Nice."  
  
You roll your eyes.

The doorbell is almost lost under another peal of thunder, lightning carrying your shadow to the far wall.

Kise? Already?  
  
"I gotta go. I think the meeting is over," You say while you drop the cleaning rag on the table. "And Kise's going to need the bath running in weather like this."  
  
Kasumi laughs. "You spoil him too much. Alright, stay safe. I'll see you in a few days." She kisses the phone theatrically.  
  
"See you."  
  
You open up the door. "You're late, Kise-"  
  
It's not Kise.  
  
All of your cheer drains, and you feel your face go blank.  
  
Kuroko stares at you with dead eyes. He's dripping wet, like he spent the last three hours in a shower with all his clothes on. The look on his face is - empty. Not blank, but desolate. Desperate. "Hello, Ryugawa-san. May I have a moment of your time?"  
  
You lean back, arms crossed. Say nothing.  
  
"It's about Kise." He says.  
  
"...Come in"  
  
He comes in follows you down the hall. His steps are silent. It's like he's not there, like something made of cold air and dripping water instead of flesh and blood. You move to the kitchen with him trailing after you like a ghost.  
  
There's a clock on the wall in the kitchen. The ticking dominates the silence.

Even looking at his hair dripping wet and his hands transparent, Kuroko looks like he can stand there waiting for eternity.  
  
More statue than flesh, more cold than boy.  
  
You don't offer him any food. You don't do anything but meet his eyes.  
  
His eyes burn with an emotion you have trouble placing. He glances at the walls - covered in photos. Most of Kise, glittering, grinning, happy. Kuroko's hands go tight for one breath.  
  
And then it clicks.  
  
_Hate._ _  
_  
Kuroko hates you.  
  
You tilt your head. "Why are you here, Kuroko?"  
  
Blue eyes stay steady. His hands smooth out. "I am a shadow."  
  
"I know that." You say.  
  
Tension leaves his shoulders, but his face is still wary in that blank way . "The generation of miracles has fallen apart. They don't love basketball anymore. I've tried to talk to them." Her breaks your stare to look down. "They... don't listen to me anymore. Not even Aomine. Not even _Kise._ "  
  
Kise, who loves Kuroko like a man possessed.  
  
The worst part of this is that you're not surprised. Even without your past life, you would have noticed the dimming like in their eyes, the apathy spreading like poison in their blood.  
  
It lives in your head, after all.

_Tick._

  
Your heart sinks, sinks, sinks. The passport in your pocket glows like a hot coal. "And why should I care-"  
  
"I am only a shadow. Without a light, I am weak and useless. Ryugawa-san is one of the lights. Please." Kuroko knelt, and his hair brushed the ground. His voice is raw. "Help me defeat the generations of miracles."  
  
And there it is.  
  
You want to drag the words out of the air.  
  
You want to push him back out the door, lock it in his face.  
  
You want to knock his teeth in.  
  
You were done.  
  
All your ties with the cannon were cut. There was a plane ticket waiting for you. A whole world out there to explore.

 _Tock._  
  
"Shut up. Just… shut up for a second." You close your eyes. Thirteen years of avoidance and now _this_. It feels like giving up at the last moment. "You want me to help you. You've never even seen me _play_."  
  
"Akashi-kun said you would have talent."  
  
"That's taking a lot on faith, Kuroko!"  
  
Kuroko's tiny smile is the bitterest thing you've ever seen. "Akashi-kun is _absolute_.".  
  
Kagami exists and Kuroko doesn't know that.  
  
The thought freezes you  
  
Kuroko doesn't know that his light is waiting for him, so Kuroko went to the person that he knew had the potential. Even if he hates them. Hates _you_. Even if he has to bow his head.  
  
_But._  
  
What if Kagami doesn't exist at all?  
  
What if you're not the only change in the cannon?  
  
You grit your teeth against the image of thirteen year old Kise, laughing, proud and happy for the first time.

This boy, so horribly sincere, who put the smile there.  
  
Without Kise, there's nothing keeping you in japan. Your parents have already approached you about moving abroad — bigger clients, better cases.  
  
But.

Always, always but.  
  
Whatever happens between you and Kise, no matter how you part, he will always be your brother.  
  
Akashi saw Kise's potential. Midorima and Murasakibara are his friends. Aomine gave Kise drive, gave him something to aim for.  
  
Kuroko makes him happy.  
  
"…One condition." You say, each word heavy as a stone in your mouth.  
  
Kuroko's head snaps up. "Ryugawa-san?"  
  
"Shut up and listen to me." You snap.  
  
He flinches.  
  
_Inhale._ _  
_ _  
_ _Exhale_ .  
  
Let the irritation go. Let it cool, let it end. You've been caught, and it's no ones fault but your own.

_Anything, anything for Kise._

Even pairing up with the very person to took him away for good.

"I will be your light. You have one year." You say, without emotion. "Do we understand each other?"  
  
Lightning flashes outside, illuminating his pale skin. His blue eyes.  
  
"Yes." He says, and offers you his hand. "I think we do."  
  
Such a small thing.  
  
You're so _tired_.  
  
You take his hand.

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People have been asking me if this is gay
> 
> which. yes. this a gay story. i guess i have to make it more obvious? hana is bi with a preference for women. kise is really really gay. who knows about kuroko (i do. i know).
> 
> i love everyone who reviews, even if i never reply. my life is kind of hectic, so thank you for your patience.
> 
> this chapter is 2500 words longer than normal to make up for the wait lol


	8. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hana: make poor decisions

Your desk chair creaks when you lean back and cross your arms, away from the cell phone. It's a simple, sleek thing. A gift from your mother for keeping your grades up. Your curtains are half open and gold sunlight pools on your floor, it's hands trail across your half packed room. The phone won't bite you, but it seems to radiate an aura of certain doom.

It beeps, annoyed.  _Again_.

Ah, yes.  _That_  doom.

You don't need to look at it to know that it's Kasumi again. A sigh escapes.

So maybe sending a text with 'can't come maybe next year' was one of your dumber ideas.

But you can't speak to her. Can't speak to anyone about this, because they love you. If you pick up the phone, she'll try to pursuance you to come anyway. You can picture her pouting into the end of the line.

And you - you  _want_  to be coaxed. Your passport sings a siren song from inside your desk drawer, your bags are already packed, and upgrading your tickets to go today is child's play. It would be so easy to just  _go_. Forget Kise, and Kuroko, and the whole situation. They'd solve it on their own.

Kise would forgive you, if he ever found out.

Except you promised.

You are many things. A liar isn't one of them.

You look over your room; the photos on the walls, the unmade bed, the shelves overflowing with books and you let the yourself think something you try to forget most of the time.

None of it... matters.

It makes you feel cold. Clear.

The chair scrapes across the floor as you stand. Grab one of the larger backpacks from your closet and start throwing clothes in it. You take three outfits and extra underwear, a book, some cash. The backpack is still half empty when you throw it over your shoulders.

In the light of the room, you lean forward. Your hand hovers over your camera collection. The plastic cases are painted gold.

Finally, you let your hand fall. It's too much of a temptation. Too much of a risk. You don't have a lot of willpower on the best of days. Instead, you turn away, grab a sweater. Pull on a hat and scarf.

Open the door, leave the buzzing phone on the desk. You head out into the kitchen. It's dim and cold, the large windows shut, their white curtains pulled closed. It feels far colder. The light in the hallway is broken and you can barely make out the shape of the door.

You place your hand on the knob - and hesitate. Look over your shoulder at the bright kitchen, the living room beyond. Kise's closed door. Your open one. It looks familiar, and full of light.

Your house keys gleam on the table beside the door. Glittering in the light like a promise.

No turning back.

Your breath out and your spine stays straight. You open the door and your eyes stay dry. You step out into the cold and your mind looks forward, because you refuse to regret your actions.

The click of the door locking behind you sounds final.

 

* * *

 

 

You take the train to the business area. Your red beanie hat stands out among the sleek black suits of the salesmen who flow along the streets in a chaotic flood of humanity. The air has the crispness of a new thousand dollar bill, the kind that stings your lungs.

You stop in front of one building and look up and up and  _up_.

It's all chrome and glass, shining even brighter than gold; you have to blink away the spots it leaves on your vision. The top reflects the setting sun like a mirror, impossible to tell where the top ends and the sky begins.

This is a place where money lives and breaths.

_Mashiro Inc._

You sigh. "Might as well get this over with."

The inside is just as tastefully rich as the outside. The main lobby is set out like a scene from a movie; glass and warm wood and not a single thing out of place. The workers move along like seasoned actors, without a single stumble in their lines. Until they spot you. You're like an adlib that no one knows how to react to.

You ignore them, glancing around until you find the elevators. You plow your way through the crowd, dismiss the odd looks you're getting as a teenager wearing ripped jeans, an oversized sweater and a bright red hat.

It's been five years since you set foot in the heart of your father's empire.

You remember where the elevators are.

The man at the desk gives you an up and down, and his lips curl. "I think you're in the wrong place. Do you need directions?"

Ah.

One of  _those_ assholes.

It's been years since you had to deal with your father's employees not recognizing you. He must be a toady of some sort. All of the important ones have been to the top floors and see your dad's... well.

He'd recognize you.

You dismiss him entirely in favor of patting down your pockets.

Where did it..ah there it is.

"Excuse me -" Whatever the secretary is going to say cuts off. He stares at the plastic laminated card you dangle between his eyes, so close his they cross.

You see the moment the large black type registers.

**MASHIRO HANAKO**

**VIP**

**UNLIMITED PASS**

Your father's signature under it like a declaration, bold and black.

Your twelve year old face scowling out of the picture. You have no desire to be in front of the camera, instead of behind.

The man's skin goes sallow and he blinks once. "Th- there's no way that's real."

You take the card and his hand, turn it over, put the card in it. Face the obvious barcode upwards, so he'll get the hint.

He stares at it like a live snake somehow made it's way into his grasp.

"Sometime today, please."

Robotically, he scans the card. Behind him the elevator doors slide up with a cheerful ding. He closes his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mashiro-sama." He says, voice remarkably even.

You take the card back, tuck it into your jeans.

"I'm home." You say.

* * *

You lean against the elevator wall and watch the numbers tick up. The very, very top is a ten minute ride, because the only thing Yuya Mashiro likes more than his family and making money, is heights. It's how he met Kise's father (who is a pilot) in the first place.

The wide hallway to your father's office is decorated with massive pictures, easily as tall as you, kept in gilded frames. Or maybe they're actually made of gold. Yuya has no chill when it comes to you or Mom. Your mother sharp eyes peer down from one side, dark hair in it's normal bob.

The other side is far more annoying.

They're all of you.

The first one you see, stepping out of the elevator, is one month old you with a disgruntled look on your tiny baby face. Age five, age nine, age twelve - one for each year of your life. You walk down the hallway under the bored stares of your past selves. It's easy to see what they'd say to you if they could speak.

_How stupid. You actually got caught up in this?_

You reach the end and pause just before the door. It looks like solid water, liquid in the way expensive, polished wood is. The last in the line before the end. You glance up at the latest portrait of you, still wearing they teikou uniform. Hair just brushing your shoulders, fringe hanging in front of your eyes. There's always a split second of incomprehension when you see your own face, a moment of looking at an average japanese girl. A stranger scowling out of the frame.

You brush your hair out of your eyes. It's getting a little long.

Unlike the hallway leading to it, your father's office is a large room with very little decoration. What there is, is hideously expensive of course, but the main feature of the room is the large, floor to ceiling window behind his polished wood desk. The tokyo skyline it's own, breathless decoration.

Standing behind it, Mashiro Yuya is speaking into a thin phone. He's young for the CEO of a global company - barely in his forties, with thick black hair slicked back and a pretty, vaguely annoyed face reflected in the glass. "I'm telling you that I don't have time for it this week, I'm having dinner with my wife -  _yes._  Yes, fine, that's good enough for now. Okay. I'll see you in three weeks then. Have your people set it up with mine. Sure, sure. I'll see you later."

Mashiro Yuya is a razor of a man, a sharp contrast to your mother's steady, calm river. He fairly buzzes with suppressed energy - his jaw, his eyes, his mouth. Everything about him demands you be fast, faster. Or you'll get left behind.

You clear your throat.

"I said to halt all appointments, Shuuzo." Yuya says without looking away from the window.

"Dad." You say. "Hey."

Yuya's reflection freezes. Your eyes meet in the glass his wide, yours a little sheepish.

You wave.

Yuya is halfway across the room before your hand is halfway up, his fancy chair is still spinning when he reaches you. Then - bam.

Impact.

It's been a year since you saw him in the flesh. He still smells like ink and cologne as he sweeps you up into a tight hug.

Your arms stay at your side.

Yuya holds you for three long heart beats, then pulls back and looks at you, a helpless smile spread over his face. "Look at how  _tall_ you are. And how pretty, just like your mother!"

He loves you, so you don't point out the lie. Your looks are a solid five out of ten, while Ryugawa Kimiko is an eleven. "Thanks."

The word falls of your tongue, a marble made of awkward instead of glass. It's all you can do to stop a grimace from crossing your face. It's hard to talk to Yuya face to face, harder still breath through the sour taste of guilt both your parents inspire.

_He loves me._

_He loves me._

_He_ loves  _me._

Maybe if you repeat it enough, you'll  _care_.

You force a smile. "I was in the neighborhood. Thought I'd drop by. I had some stuff to talk you about."

His smile goes giddy. "Of course Hana-chan! Anything you need, just say the word."

You drop your gaze down at your bag and take the school paperwork . "I need you to sign this." You say.

He takes the paper and raises an eyebrow at the name over the top. "Seirin Highschool? I thought you were going to America with Kasumi?"

You shrug, though the motion probably looks as fake as it feels. "Plans change."

And Yuya doesn't say anything. He only nods once, and signs the papers. "I'll have an apartment set up near by. It's too far from your old old one. Speaking of, how is Ryouta doing? I haven't seen him since his birthday. Plus that boyfriend of yours - the Akashi boy, was it? When will I get to meet him?"

You shrug again. "School is boring, Kise's fine, and I broke up with Akashi."

A tremendous crash interrupted whatever he was going to say next.

You look over your shoulder, and see the real reason you came in the doorway.

Nijimura is staring at you, a tea set in pieces at his feet. Tea spread out in a slow wave. His face is pale. "You broke up with  _Akashi_?"

Oh thank god; a distraction.

You raise an hand. "Yo, Nijimura."

Yuya pinches the bridge of his nose. "That will be coming out of your paycheck, Shuuzo."

Nijimura looked down for the first time. "Uh. Sorry?" He glances up. "I'll clean it up."

"Shuuzo."

The look of reluctance on Nijimura's face was almost comical. "I'll... go get someone else to clean up, because I'm your assistant and not a janitor."

Your dad gave a proud nod. "Well done."

"I need to talk to you." You say. "Later."

You see the way Nijimura's eyes flick from you to Yuya. Then back to you.

Whatever he sees makes his eyes go narrow. His face blanks and he glances back at your dad. The corner of his mouth turns down. "...Okay."

Yuya waits until he's out of the room to give you a bland look.

You ignore it. "I'm borrowing him for a month." You tell the room at large.

"A month? Hana, he's in a very delicate place in his training. That much time might have some backslide into bad habits."

You sigh inwardly.

Let the negotiations begin.

Your mouth turns into a pout and you blink your eyes shiny enough to distract him.

Because he's a businessman, you don't come out unscathed. He comes away with three visits in the next year, a skype chat with your mom on her birthday -  _at_ least  _a half an hour long, Hana-chan_ \- and he gets to buy you your next three cameras.

You get off easy, because he's your father. Still, you feel like you've been scraped raw by sandpaper.  _No one_  out deals Mashiro Yuya.

Yuya's phone beeps twice and you m

ake your escape.

"I have to get going." You say, heft the bag back on your back. "Places to go, people to see."

"So soon?" His disappointment grates across your spine, sets your teeth on edge. "You just got here."

You shrug and place a scrap of paper on his desk. "Give that to Nijimura for me. Please."

"...Of course. Of course, I will." His hands smooth out his already perfect tie. "Don't be a stranger, my dear. You know that you're always welcome here."

"I know." You don't look at him, because you don't need to. The expression on his face is the same every time talks to you. Bewilderment. Hurt. Most heartbreaking of all, acceptance.

A wave over you shoulder, and you shut the door behind you. Only then do you slump against it, exhausted. Forehead to the cold wood.

It'll be fine.

Inhale. Exhale. Straighten up. Put your hands in your pockets, keep your face bored and blank. Reach for your indifference; the vast well of apathy that keeps you breathing on bad days.

* * *

_Swish._

The ball enters the net, rebounds into your hands and you take the shot again.

_Swish._

_Swish._

_Swish._

How can anyone find this fun? Each clean shot makes your eyes unfocus. Your mind wanders, let the body make shot after shot on automatic.

You're  _bored_.

Only three hundred and sixty four days to go.

"This is nostalgic." Nijimura says from behind you.

The basketball court is quiet this time of night. It's one that you and Nijimura would meet at when neither of you could sleep.

You turn, hold out your hand. Catch the rebound without looking. "You sound like an old man. Yuya rubbing off on you?"

"I hate you." Nijimura glares at you, bags under his eyes. He's taller by a couple inches, wearing clothes that even Kise would approve of. His sneakers are white and nearly brand new."Your father is a  _slave driver_. He hates me and wants me to die."

You shrug, a little amused. "I told you it wasn't a favor."

You've seen the kind of work your dad's assistants and  _her_  assistants have to go through on a daily basis. You will run that company into the ground before you lift a finger to lead it.

You may be dead inside, but you're not stupid.

His voice says hate, but his body say something different. His spine stays straight, perfect posture, eyes straight and clear. Confidence.

Like Yuya.

"It's how he shows his love."

He runs a hand through his hair. "I don't believe you at all. Nevermind. What did you want? I have so much work to do it's not funny."

"No, you don't."

"...I don't." His voice is flat. "And why is that?"

You throw him the basketball. "For the next thirty days, you're my coach."

He stares.

"I have one month." You say.

One month to undo a lifetime of avoidance. One month to drag yourself up the level up of the Generation of Miracles. One month until Seirin.

"You... want me to teach you basketball stuff.  _You._ "

You shrug. No, not really.

He stares at the ball. His black eyes met yours and all of the humor is gone. "Okay. Hana - what is  _wrong_?"

You blink once. "...Nothing?"

"Hana. You  _hate_ basketball. You actively resisted whenever I try to get you to play a one on one game. What the hell have I missed? I had to force you into playing. What the hell  _happened_?"

Oh.

Nijimura doesn't know.

He wasn't… there. He wasn't there to watch his underclassmen implode. To see them fall apart, tumble like a house made of cards.

It takes you by surprise, and you don't know why. You open your mouth - and then close it with a shrug.

Nijimura isn't really part of the team anymore. He has other things to work on.

"I made a deal." Is all you say in the end.

"Like a bet?"

"Sure." You shrug. "Will you help me or not?"

He sighs, and his shoulders slump. "I could use a vacation."

_How is this a vacation?_

The thought is vague. Asphalt cold and rough on your back, you stare up at the lightening sky. For once your mind is a blank slate. You hold up your hand, watch it shake with a detached fascination. Your breath is short and fast, your forehead covered in sweat.

Physical exhaustion. The words are almost foreign, sit strangely in your thoughts. This body is a marvel, a gift, but even it can't stand up to the full force of Nijimura Shuuzou's full attention and brutal training. If anything, he sees what you can do, and it makes him twice as harsh. He takes the knowledge that you are simply  _made_  better - not without resentment, but without malice.

How strange, to not be underestimated.

Nijimura pushes, and pushes, and  _pushes._  All because he knows that you can take it.

You feel lighter than you have in weeks.

"Done already, Hana?" Nijimura offers you a hand. "Come on. We're not done yet."

"No wonder my father likes you." You take his hand, let him pull you up. "You have the same idea of 'light work' as he does."

Nijimura snorts. "I'm nowhere near as bad as him, and you know it. What's up with him anyway? I thought I stepped into a shrine to you the first time I went to his office." He iddly dribbled the ball. "It'd be sweet if it wasn't so creepy having you scowl down at me every time I go to work."

"He loves me."

"Yeah. No kidding."

You shrug. "He doesn't see me that often. It's his way of coping."

"About that." Nijimura doesn't look at you, but you can feel his attention all the same. "Why not? It's a twenty minute ride from school."

You say nothing.

You were one month old when you looked up at the two people hovering over your crib. Your parents, the two people who created the prison. Your prison. Who dragged you out of peace and back into the world. You resent them for their love. If they hated you, none of this would be a problem. The dark would have won out long ago.

This body, this blood, this heavy heart - all of it because they want a child.

You will never forgive them completely.

You didn't  _ask_ for this.

And neither did they. They didn't  _know_.

It's easy to remember that when you don't have to look at them. When they're confined to the other side of a screen, the other end of the phone line. If you were kinder, you would have come to love them. To anyone else, they would have been fantastic parents. But they didn't get anyone else.

They got you.

They don't deserve to be hated by their only child.

So you tolerate them. Take phone calls and accept presents on your birthday. It might not be love, but it's all you have. The only thing you  _can_ give.

You don't know how to explain it to Nijimura, so you just shrug.

He sighs. "Let's get back to work."

* * *

The month passes slips through your hands, faster than you can process it. One day Nijimura is drilling you into the ground, the next you're on a train wearing Seirin's uniform.

Seirin isn't as nice as Teikou. The school grounds are cared for, but not pristine. The air of the students themselves is relaxed in a way that surprises you. Sure the clubs are intense in their desire to recruit but they're not  _frantic_. There's no real pressure tactics from the older students.

You wade through the crow without trouble. Ignore the various clubs handing out pamphlets, or the older students trying to get you to sit down and chat. It takes you five minutes to find what you're looking for.

_There._

The sign for the basketball club. And, you can feel your lip curl up, a head of blue hair bent over something on the table.

Kuroko moves fast.

He's being ignored by the tall, dark haired boy and the brown haired girl standing next to him. Something about them seems familiar but… it's been a long time.

You never much cared about the Seirin team.

You hang back, wait for Kuroko to get done. Talking to Kuroko is not high on your list of favorite things.

He takes three minutes to fill out the form - and another two trying to hand it to the girl behind the desk. She ignores him while looking over the crowd, so finally he just sets it down, stands, and disappears into the crowd.

You wait a moment longer, stare at the table. Your face is blank. Your hands are loose at your sides.

It's only few feet, and you  _still_ can't feel anything but apathy.

_Get it over with._

The girl spots you first, and the gleam in her eye reminds you of Momoi. Oddly, it makes it easier to breath. "Are you here to join? We have manager's positions open!"

You don't get a chance to reply.

"C-captain?" Someone says, all anxious fear.

The girl looks at something over your shoulder and her eyes go wide.

A large shadow looms over you, and you close your eyes. Let yourself have one brief moment of gut churning nausea. Then, slow, you turn your head and look up in the face of Kagami Taiga.

Helpless frustration. You didn't need to be here, this pain is unnecessary. But you promised. So. You can wait until Kuroko realizes that you make a terrible light. Than you can quit without any complaints.

"Is this the basketball club?" His japanese is slightly accented. He's tall - but not skyscraper size like Murasakibara. He's broad shouldered, but solid as Aomine. His hair is red, but it's not the shocking, poisons red of Akashi.

One look is all you need to see: Kagami Taiga is not Generation of Miracles quality.

_Yet, anyway._

He's also holding a boy up by the collar of his shirt, for some reason.

"Captain, I found a first year." The boy says, voice weak. You can almost see the tears running down his face.

"More like he found you." Glasses guy says under his breath.

You turn back to the table, dismiss him from your mind. Your hands do not shake. "The club application?"

"What?" She tears her eyes away from kagami. "R-right. Here you are. Just sign here, and put your previous school here - uh. "

There's a thump, like two feet hitting the ground, and then Kagami's red-black hair appears in the corner of your eye.

"Make it two." He says.

You ignore him, and take a seat. The glasses guy hands you a pen, eyes still on Kagami.

Each scratch of the tip on paper builds your prison around you. Bars of white paper, bricks of ink.

Ryukawa is your mother's maiden name, the one she still goes by at work. When you finally understood who Kise was,  _what_  Kise was, you started using it as well. Ryukawa is cooler, you told your parents. Ryukawa is less of a household name. Ryukawa belongs to your mother and what little girl doesn't want to be just like her mother? Your parents accepted that.

Ryukawa is not a name meant for the Generation of Miracles, unlike Mashiro.

_Selfishness._

Well.

Joke's on you, you guess - because here you are, of your own free will.

(Yuya never said a word, but you can tell it still bothers him sometimes.)

So when you write your name?

You write  _Mashiro Hanako_.

The characters for Pure White, next to your Flower Child. Strange after so long being your mother's daughter. You hover over the name for a long moment. In the end, you move on. Leave it as is. Your school id already reads it, but writing it down yourself somehow makes it feel more… real.

Too late for regrets now, no matter how tired you feel.

You fill in the rest of the questions, pause only at the one at the very bottom. Why do you want to join our club?

You consider the question for one long moment.

Kise. Akashi. The Generation of Miracles, kids you could have cared about if you had it in you.

Then, careful, you write: Victory.

* * *

The gym is easy enough to find. You show up wearing a baggy white sweatshirt and basketball shorts you borrowed from Nijimura and never returned. There's a yellow stripe down the side, and you brush your fingers across it when you step up beside Kuroko.

He glances out of the corner of his eyes, but says nothing.

You keep your gaze ahead. Kuroko's not the only one looking at you. The rest of the first years exchange confused looks over your head - next to Kuroko, you're the shortest one in line and a girl besides.

Let them look.

The brown haired girl from the table walks into the room, clipboard in hand. A tall man with glasses walks with her.

"Is that the manager? She's sort of cute." Someone whispers.

"Wrong!" The boy upperclassman with glasses says, cheerfully. His smile does nothing to hide the waves of menace that roll off him. "That's Aida Riko, our  _coach_."

That sounds vaguely familiar.

"B-but what about the teacher?"

Kuroko is the only other one of the first years who doesn't seem surprised.

(Besides you, anyway.)

Finally, Adia makes a final note on her clipboard and turns to the waiting first years. "All right. Shirts off!"

Beautiful silence.

You can't help the eye roll when an audible flush floods through the room.

_Teenagers._

The body is just a body. Nothing more, nothing less.

Still, before you can do more than lift your shirt, a pale hand catches yours.

"What." You say.

No one does judgment like Kuroko does judgment. "We are in a gym full of boys, Ryuukawa-san."

"It's Mashiro now." You say. "And?"

One blink is all the surprise he shows. "Mashiro-san."

You wait, but that seems to be it. You glance down at his hands, cold and strong around your wrist. "Okay. Whatever. Let me go."

Kuroko jerks back like you're molten iron.

You finish pulling off your shirt.

He pointedly looks away.

Someone chokes.

"Okay, now line up and- half naked girl. Why - why are  _you_  taking your shirt off?" The glasses guy shouts. His face flushes until it matches Akashi's hair and his eyes are focused somewhere over your shoulder. "That's only for players! Not  _managers_ , you don't have to -"

You drop your shirt to the floor, on hand in you pocket. "I'm not here to be a manager. I'm here to play."

Obviously.

"No way."

You pause. Look over your shoulder. "Excuse me."

The first year scowls at you, condescension in every line of his body. "You're a girl. You can't even keep up with us, much less play in a match. If you got hurt, the other team would look like the bad guys. No one would  _want to_  play us."

You stare at him, eyes flat. "Thank for your input, random stranger who's opinion I definitely asked for?"He flushes an ugly red. "Only no, I didn't. So you can shut the fuck up, I guess."

From the corner of your eye, you see Kuroko pinch the bridge of his nose.

At least someone's suffering as much as you are.

"You  _bitch_  -"

He took two steps, and tries to loom. You eye him. Dude wasn't even on Haizaki's level.

You yawn. "Whatever."

A sharp clap breaks through the tension.

Both of you turn to look at the source.

Aida's face is just as unamused as her voice. "That's enough of that. Kiba-kun, please don't assume that you have any sort of control over who I accept into the team. You're not even part of the club yet, let alone a shot caller. And as for you… Mashiro-kun, was it?"

"Coach." You say.

Aida scans your body, shirt still off, eyes sharp. Assessing. You can almost see the numbers building up in her head, too fast to understand. A part of you relaxes, because this at least was familiar. Her gaze flickers between you and Kagami.

(It's been awhile since you spoke to Momoi.)

Aida meets your eyes, and you know you've won. "Stop provoking your teammates."

You shrug. "Sure thing, coach."

Just like that, you're in.

You glance at Kuroko - he looks as blank as he always is. He meets your eyes with a miniscule shrug. Yeah. Like it was ever in doubt. Aida is a true coach - meaning that no matter what form her talent came in, she knows how to recognize it. It's not arrogance to say that any team in japan would accept you, regardless of gender.

Hyuuga's eyes flick from her to you, and his mouth opens. Than he looks at Aida again and shuts it. "Alright, now that  _that's_ settled - Freshmen, line up! Time to start drills."

"Are you  _serious_?" Kiba shouts, throws his arms up. "Is this some sort of joke? She's a  _girl_ -"

Hyuuga's glasses glint in the light. "Did. I. Stutter.  _Freshman_?" A black aura surrounds him.

Kiba shuts up, real quick.

"Ah, the captain's in clutch mode. That was quick." The cat eyed boy says.

"Respect your sempai, you brats." Hyuuga says.

The freshmen scramble to follow his orders.

Someone is staring at you. You see red out of the corner of your eye.

Kagami's eyes are on you. Not even for the reason that the rest of them sneak glances for - his eyes skip over bared skin, come to rest on the back of your neck. You can tell the difference between a stare fueled by hormones and the burn of ambition. It brings to mind a flash of dark blue, Aomine's eyes watching you across the lunchroom.  _Come play with me_ , those eyes always said.  _Give me a challenge._

The day he stopped going to practice, he also stopped bothering you to play with him.

It makes you tired.

You keep your eyes forward, hands in your pockets. The wall is an off shade of white.

Maybe if you ignore Kagami, he'll go away.

You're not that lucky.

Kagami looms above you. "You. You smell strong."

Kuroko gives Kagami a look that no one but you notices.

"And your hair is ugly," you say, gaze still on the wall. Your voice is bland as unseasoned rice.

Riko clapped her hands together and the freshmen jumped. "Alright, that's enough chatter. Has anybody seen Kuroko-kun?"

"The one from Teikoku?" One of the regulars asks. "Wasn't that where the generation of miracles went to school?"

"Generation of miracles?" Kagami asks, finally looking away.

You pick up your shirt and put it back on while Kagami is distracted. Thank you, random side character.

Riko sighs. "Maybe he didn't come today. Well, I guess we can get started -

Kuroko raises a hand. "I am here, Adia-senpai."

The entire club jumps.

"W-when did you get here?" Riok shouts. The rest of

You snort. After three years to get used to him, you forgot how funny it was to see new people to react to Kuroko.

Kuroko doesn't look at you. "I was here the whole time, sempai."

With that, the rest of club is content to ignore you.

* * *

You're exhausted - not from the drills. You could run for days and not get winded and compared to Nijimura's training, this is child's play. Your eyelids are cinder-blocks, your feet encased in concrete. You feel heavy and too slow to escape.

Practice ends, finally.

You rub your face. You just… you forgot how much people  _exhaust_  you. At Teikou there was always a buffer. Kise. Momoi. Akashi. Now, there's only Kuroko and he won't do you any favors.

You forgot the obligation of living; the inconvenience of  _caring._  Caring feels like sinking. Like you tie another rope around your neck for each person you know, an anchor that keeps you grounded, keeps your breath in your body, when all you want to do is drift away.

Kasumi and Yuya and your mother. Aomine, Murasakibara, Midorima, Akashi. Momoi and Nijimura and even Kuroko.

Kise. Kise, most of all.

You rub your chest with a grimace. There's a low pounding in the back of your head, and it throbs in time with your heart, like something heavy on the bridge of your nose and your forehead.

You don't even make it to the school gates.

"Oi! Mashiro, wait up." Kagami calls.

You keep your eyes on the exit. If you don't acknowledge him, he'll go away.

Unlikely, but you live in hope.

Kagami has a foot on you, his long legs eat up distance. He doesn't even have to run to catch up to you and he ends up walking at your side, some sort of snack in his hand, and the tell tale crinkle of plastic in his bag revealing more. . "Hey, You're Hanako right? Or Mashiro, I guess. Is Mashiro right? Japanese is backwards and weird as hell."

You glance up at the sky. "What."

He plants himself in front of you. "You're the strongest I've seen since I got here - let's play a one on one game!."

You're not surprised. He really does remind you of Aomine. It doesn't stop you stepping around him without even looking at him. "No thanks."

A heartbeat of silence and then the sound of footsteps as Kagami catches up. "Why the hell not?"

You ignore him to pull out a pair of headphones.

He puts himself in your path again.

This time you stop to actually look up at him. Kagami's dramatic eyebrows draw down and his mouth is pulled into a scowl. "I thought japanese people were supposed to be polite. Why the hell won't you play with me?"

"I literally just got done playing basketball. The last thing I want to do is cater to some asshole I just met by playing  _more._ "

He takes an "You're making it sound like you don't even like basketball."

You shrug, hands in your pockets. "Basketball is fucking boring.".

Kagami's eyes narrow. "You don't mean that."

That gets a roll of your eyes. "The answer is no. The answer will always be no. I'm not interested in being your rival or whatever. Find someone else."

"What's  _wrong_  with you?" Kagami asks. "Why even join the club if you don't like playing?"

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a flash of light blue and your mouth twists. "I don't think that's any of your business."

Kagami scowls. "Has anyone told you you're kind of a bitch?"

You shrug. "They never really stop."

Both of you pause at the school gates. Kagami looks down at you and the light turns his hair Akashi red. "I'll make you change your mind."

You put your headphones in. "Sorry, did you say something?"

He takes an aggressive bite of his snack. " _Such_  a bitch."

You part ways there - you just going to opposite direction for the hell of it, because it's not like you have anywhere to be. Him to find some sort of food.

And following behind him, a blue haired shadow.

Kuroko brushes past you without a word, eyes on Kagami's back.

"Yeah. Nice to see you too, Kuroko." You say.

The second they're out of sight, all expression drains from your face like water from a sieve.

You are a mirror with nothing to reflect.

Without something to distract you, the cold starts to creep back in. You hunch your shoulders, but it's not a physical cold. You put Kuroko out of your mind. Y. Or not sleep, as it normally goes.

Who knows - now that Kuroko has another possibility, he might actually drop you.

You're not that lucky, of course, but the thought is nice.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick note - probably not gonna be updating next month. Nano's coming up and I want to try writing something from scratch. Might be another KNB fic (no oc), might be a Naruto one (oc). Vote now lol
> 
> NEXT TIME: How Do You Team, All aboard the poor decisions train, Kuroko is Not Nice (but you knew that already), Kise.


	9. IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this chapter: depression naps for people who like living on the edge, 'is this how you partnership ft. hana and kuroko' (it's really, really not), Hana Does Not Know Or Care To Know Any Of Your Names, gay
> 
> (more seriously, trigger warnings for: suicidal thoughts, misogyny, unhealthy relationships, a brief mention of prostitutes, disassociation)

 

* * *

The further away you get from Seirin, the heavier your feet seem, until you can't lift them and you walk with a strange, shuffling guide towards the train station. It's not fatigue. Not the physical kind, anyway.

Motivation is hard to gather on the best days.

You stare at the ticket gate. The pass is in your bag. To get it, you'd have to take off your bag, search through it, get the pass, put your bag back on, and board the train. You ignore the people moving impatiently behind you.

Is it worth it?

 _Not really._  
  
You turn and stumble away, drifting with the flow of the crowd like a leaf on top of of a stream. It takes you out an unfamiliar entrance, but there's a park down one street. A small eternity to passes while you stand in dark between two street lamps. Wind pulls the trees, bends their backs until they look as tired as you feel, then picks up your hair and whips it behind you; you look back.

A bench. Cold white, modern.

 _Good enough._ __  
  
You manage to shrug off your backpack onto the bench before the apathy gets to be too much. Your knees give out, your mind just… stops. You slump, use the bag as a pillow. It might be cold. You can't really feel it. The light pollution is to bright to pick out any stars, but you stare up into the blue black of night and wish you were dead.

Every night you float above the dark, hanging by your fingertips; one day you're going to let go.

Not today, though.

You close your eyes and sigh.

* * *

School still starts the next day, and you arrive with rumpled clothes and a crick in your neck. Your hair is a wild mess. You let your body go on autopilot, and let the people in your way move or get run over. Like always, the crowd parts around you.

The first years are leaving the gym in a stream, behind Aida like a row of ducklings. The boy from yesterday gives you a sneer. You look past him with a yawn. There is Kagami's red hair, and just behind him is kuroko's blue. They stand at the very front of the line, with Kagami bouncing a little on his heels, impatient.

The coach waves you over. "Mashiro-chan. You're late."

You yawn again and shrug. She's lucky you showed up at all. It's not like she gave you a time to be at the gym.

Her mouth tightens but she doesn't say anything when you fall to the back of the line. A few of the boys give you ueasy glances. No one tries to speak to you.

You drag your feet along the tiles, look out the windows when the coach starts leading you up. At the top of the stairs, a second year you don't recognize holds open the door to the roof, his face in a perpetual smile, like a cat. The coach claps him on the shoulder and leads the first years onto the roof, and turns to them. Her smile is bright. "Alright! You think that you're members of the basketball club just because you turned in your applications?"

"That's... that's how it normally works." One of the freshmen says. "Right?"

The others murmured in agreement.

Kagami shifts again. You can't see his face from the back, but he's pretty easy to read. Agitation, impatience, curiosity. Kuroko, standing next to him is a brick wall in comparison.

Aida's smile sparkles even more. "Wrong!"

"What do you mean?" Kagami asks.

"We, here in the basketball club, have a tradition." She flung out her hand to the sky, and you can just make out the sound of a crowd below. "This isn't a casual club. The only type of members we want - more than  _talent_ , more than _skill_ \- are people who  _want to win_. We're aiming for the top. For the nationals! If you don't want to win, you don't belong in the club!"

You see Kuroko glance at you from the corner of his eyes, and you meet them with a smile full of mockery.

You don't belong here, and he knows it.

You'll gladly leave and never come back, the second he says anything.

He turns back to the front.

Your smile fades with a sigh and do the same.

_Guess it won't be that easy._

"So this is the test: you shout out your ambitions to the world. The consequences are: if we lose the championship, you have to confess to the girl you like naked!" Aida declares.

"That's so dirty -"

"No way, the championship? With the Generation of Miracles hanging around?"

" _Naked_?"

...is she including you in this?

In the comotion, no one notices Kagami jump onto the railing surrounding the roof with a savage grin on his face. "I just gotta yell it out, right? I thought you'd ask for something hard." He he stands up to his full height, still on the fence. Good balance. "Class 1-A, seat 8, Kagami Taiga. I'm going defeat the Generation of Miracles and be number one in the world!"

You lean against the same fence, arms crossed over each other and see the students below look up and ignore the conversation going on behind you. It's a long, long way down. They look like toys without faces. Not quite real. You measure the height with your face blank, and your eyes half lidded.

The wall barely reaches your waist.

The open air sings, and for one blind moment you nearly listen. You want the open air around you so badly you can taste it.

Instead, you clench your hands hard enough that the metal cuts leaves dents in your palms.

You sigh and the sound is wistful to your ears.

_Not yet._

There are promises to keep.

You glance over your shoulder at the door. The  _unlocked_ door. While everyone's busy being surprised by Kuroko's existence, you slide a smidge away from the rest of class, just enough that you're out of direct line of sight.

You watch the rest of the scene play out, counting down in your head.

Aida scolds Kagami.

_Three._

Kuroko makes everyone jump, megaphone in hand.

_Two._

Just as Kuroko steps up to the fence, a teacher shows up in the door. You can nearly hear the blood veins popping from across the roof.

"Just  _what_ is  _going on here_?" The man growls.

Aida sweats. "Uh-."

 _One._  
  
With every number, you take a small step away from the group, back up until you're almost at the opposite wall. On 'one' you duck behind the building housing the school access, outside of the teachers eyeline, behind the large water cistern all schools seem to kinda wish you had some popcorn. Or a pillow.

...a nap sounds good. Park benches are, unsurprisingly, not very comfortable. You lay down behind the cistern with your jacket acting as a pillow, and you close your eyes to the sound of the basketball club being chewed out.

"Wait," Kagami looks around. "Where's Mashiro?"

"That  _traitor_." Aida growls.

Your lips quirk up and you close your eyes, let the sun wash over you.

* * *

Your nap lasts most of the first day, and you skip all but three of your classes. You wish you could skip all of them. When the introduction rounds reach you, you slouch at your desk. "Mashiro Hanako." Is all you say. Then you slump down in your chair and return to looking out the window. You say your name and nothing else. Unfriendly. You let the noise wash over you, put your head on your desk.

Lots of introductions that you don't bother remembering, lots of people who recognize your father's name, lots of ignoring they way both Kagami  _and_ Kuroko are in your class and glaring at you for ditching them.

You drift.

There's a sense of motion. People passing. You blink and the classroom is empty. The bell rings and you blink, glancing at the clock.

_Three hours._

You tap your nails on the desk. Losing time is... probably not a good sign.

You sigh and push your chair away from the desk with a shrieking sound. Club wouldn't wait.

 _No one's_ very happy with you for ditching them. You ignore the grumbling and half-heartedly complete the the rest of the team is too busy being exhausted to bother glaring at you. Aida is  _brutal_.

(Nijimura is worse, though not by much.)

You don't do more than you have to, and still practice leaves you with zero willpower, to the point where all you can do is lay on your back and stare up, eyes unfocused, breath shallow and slow. You let the others look at you, filled with pity for the poor girl who tired to keep up with the big strong men. The same dude who wanted you to get off the team sneers at you like this proves him right.

You. Are. So.

_Bored._

You wait for them all to leave, then slowly heave yourself to your feet. Your hands feel numb. It takes three tries to make your body respond enough to actually put on your uniform jacket. You leave the tie off.

You don't leave the school. Instead you climb up into a tree and wait for night to fall, stare up at the sky with your hands behind your head. It's a beautiful piece of color; purple clouds fading to pink, to a soft blue seen through the leaves. You don't feel the itch beauty normally brings you. All of your emotions sink below the surface of your mind, far out of your reach. They're  _there_ , but you don't feel them, and they can't touch you.

Nothing can.

You stay there for a long time; the students pass below you, swirling around the edges of your awareness like air in a dust cloud. The sky puts away it's blue and gold and pulls on a soft black, studded with stars. The only sound is the wind rustling the leaves around you.

The sound of footsteps breaks the quiet and you open your eyes.

You were right.

Target acquired, you roll out of the tree, body automatically twisting to land easy as breathing - right on top of Kuroko, who lets out an exhale of breath.

You give him a lazy wave. "Sup."

It takes concentration to make out Kuroko's shape in the gloom. He's more shape than person, more shadow than color.

His deadpan gaze is cold. "Mashiro-san."

The 'what the hell are you doing here?' is silent.

You shrug. "Helping you."

"No, thank you." He says, politely. "I don't need to do Mashiro-san's work for her."

"Tch."

 _Caught._  
  
He ignores you when you follow after him like the tail drifting behind a kite. It's quiet. The two of you travel through the school for ten minutes all the way around to the small storage shed the field striper is kept.

You tilt your head. How did he even know about that?

Momoi, probably. Does he have her number? They  _are_ friends.

...she had a crush on him, didn't she?

You glance at the silhouette in front of you, than look away with your hands in your pockets.

Nothing to do with you.

You stand with hands in pockets and watch him struggle to get it out of the shed. It's tangled up in a length of volleyball net. Really, really tangled. Yikes.

You tilt your head. "That'll take a while."

He gives you a disgusted glance, hidden behind a blank face. "No thank you. I don't need your help."

"That wasn't an offer. That was an observation."

A few security guards make the rounds twice, but none of them take a single glance at you two. He's sweating by the times he's done; bent over and panting. Poor stamina; and he still has to write yet.

 _Weak._  
  
The school is dark at night, only a few of the emergency lights in the main yard to light the way. The leaves rustle in a wind overhead.

"So." You fall into step beside him, hands still in pockets, watch the line of white spread over the grass. "Kagami."

The line wobbles, and you smile. There's nothing happy about it.

Yeah. You thought so.

"He's good." You say, eyes still down.

Kuroko rights the machine and pushes on. "Yes. Quite talented."

"And he loves basketball."

_Unlike you._

Kuroko says nothing.

"He reminds me of Aomine."

Out of the corner of your eyes, your catch Kuroko's minute flinch. The look in his eyes is far away and full of pain. You know that he's thinking of dark blue and a bright grin, instead of red and a scowl.

"You're thinking twice about having me here." You say. "Who needs  _her_? Now you have a light with potential, a light who's willing to work with you and loves basketball as much as you do." You flash him a mocking smile. "Congratulations, Kuroko. You've upgraded."

From Aomine to you. From you to Kagami.

The white line pauses. He turns to look you in the eyes and his are cold and hard in the shadow.

You give him a small, empty smile you remember from Kise, and his eyes go even colder. "You have an easy alternative. You don't need me anymore." You tilt your head. "So why am I still  _here_ , Kuroko?"

Why are you  _still here_?

"Mashiro-san is modest." Kroko says. "Kagami-kun is not yet on her level."

 _Ah._  
  
You watch him, half in shadow, half in light. "If Kagami was better than me, you'd let me go."

Kuroko meets your eyes and his face is ice. "Mashiro-san makes it sound like I'm holding her hostage."

Isn't he?

Would you be here if it weren't for Kuroko holding you to your promise?

Your smile is more a baring of teeth this time. " You must really want to win, to put up with me being around. Anything for victory, huh? How very Teikou of you."

Pale skin goes paler. Blue eyes look away - but he doesn't disagree. Instead he picks up the field striper again and throws himself back into his work.

You leave him to it, walk away. You look up at the sky, a sigh escapes you. The wind catches you hair and pulls it in front of the moon like a curtain, leaving you in the dark for a long, cold moment. You brush it impatiently out of your face.

All you have to do is drag Kagami up to your level.

* * *

The next day, the freshmen gather at the gym like it was natural, stand in front of Aida in a single file line. You still don't know any of their names and you don't bother asking. You stand next to the shortest boy, and ignore the way the rest of them are staring at you.

Aida paces in front of all of you like a general inspecting her troops. "Well, now that we're all here - Mashiro-chan! Your  _hair!_ " She freezes in front of you, hands hover in the air like she wants to touch it. "D-did something happen?"

You shrug, ignore Kuroko's eyes on your now bare neck. The movement is strangely light. You've never cut your hair in this life, because Kasumi loved to play with it when you were small and it seemed like a pain to get it cut. And you were right - it  _was_  a pain.

You don't keep sharp objects in your apartment (for obvious reasons) and you had yet to find a salon open at five in the morning.

(You didn't find a salon, but you did find a few barely dressed women on a street corner who attended beauty school for a couple years. They had no customers anyway, and you payed them both 20,000 yen.)

Now, your hair's shorter than Kuroko's, with bangs parted to the side. It looks good, probably. All you needed was to get it out of the way. For once, you feel lighter.

More… present, like the world gained definition without anything to hide your eyes behind.

"Commitment." You say.

A promise to yourself.

You'll be done with this team before your hair touches your shoulders again.

Riko stares at you. "That's… not really what I meant?"

You brush the hair out of your eyes - only to get halfway through the motion and realize that it's not in your eyes. It's too short for that. "Do you want me to shave it all off?" Pretty sure you could find those ladies again, if you really need to.

"No! It's good, it's good. It's definitely enough." Riko waved her hands. "It's just… you had such pretty hair."

You shrug again. "It'll grow back."

"Are you really a girl?" Kagami asked, voice full of doubt. "Because I don't see - ow!"

Kuroko withdrew his elbow from Kagami's gut. "Kagami-kun is rude."

" _I'm_  rude? I'll show you  _rude_ , asshole -"

You roll your eyes and ignore them.

Aida clears her throat. "Alright, moving on. It's time to continue our tradition!"

"We still have to do that?" Someone asked.

"Of course! Except Kagami and Kuroko, who already did it. And Mashiro-chan." Aida glances at you again, and shakes her head.

Dude-bro's face goes ugly. "Why does she get a pass?"

You look at him. "Do you want me to shave  _your_  head."

He shuts up.

"We can't go up to the roof anymore. What are we supposed to do?" A freshman frowns.

Aida's smile is refreshing. "Announcing it in front of the school gate at the time when most students are getting here, of course!"

_Of course._

"I'm not doing it." Dude-bro, The same freshman who tried to argue you out of the team says.

Aida's smile doesn't falter.  _Danger, will robinson._  "Repeat that?"

The dude is either stupid or suicidal because he only sneers. "I said that I'm not doing it. Are you deaf? I'm a nationally ranked player, and you're telling me that I have to do - do this hazing thing?"

_Stupid it is._

"That's nice." Aida says, clearly unimpressed. "Unfortunately, there's no exceptions! I'll see you at the gate in twenty minutes."

The freshman sputters and Aida waves goodbye. Her skirt flutters as she cheerfully bounces away, and you can't help the way your mouth curls up. She's a force of nature who knows what she wants and does her best to make it happen.

You like it.

If Aida was the one in charge of Teikou, things would have turned out differently. Akashi would have had the help he needed, Aomine would have had someone willing to punish him for going to far, Murasakibara would have followed her around like a little Chick. Kise would have - Momoi would have - you stop that thought before it can finish.

Thinking of Momoi always feels a little dangerous.

Dude-bro doesn't like it at all. "This is such bullshit." He says, face an ugly mask. He roughly pulls his bag over his shoulders and turns to his friends. "Let's go. This team is a waste of time but what can you expect from a school that lets any old trash in." He glances at you and sneers. "They're not going to get anywhere by dragging dead weight."

"Wait a sec, Wait as sec - You're just giving up? Because you don't… wanna  _introduce_  yourself at the gate?" Kagami's face is confused. "It's not hard."

"When the 'coach' realizes her mistakes and begs for me to come back, maybe I'll consider it. Until then..." he snorts. "Good luck."

Kagami watches the him leave with narrowed eyes. This is probably why you don't recognize him. There's no way Aida would go after a small fry like him, not when he's arrogant and non-cooperative and she knew his specs. Not worth fighting for.

The rest of the freshmen look at each other, feet shuffling.

"He's got a point." One of them says. "The club's kind of... intense."

"Yeah." Another one agrees. "I just wanted to have some fun in a club. Not... this. I'm out."

_Good riddance._

You see Kuroko's mouth purse and catch his eyes.

You shake your head minutely.

People like that always gave up at the first sign of trouble; there's no point trying to convince only for them to stop showing up in three months. Plus Dude-bro is the opposite of someone you wanted on your team. He gave off Haizaki vibes, and you don't know how long it'd take you to snap and bury in a shallow grave for being fucking annoying.

His mouth goes tight but he gives an imperceptible nod. He understands, but then, you knew he would.

How many of the third string players just... gave up?

Kuroko's seen the faces around him shift like sand in the desert, the only rock among them. He's also dealt with people like Haizaki, who thought a bit of talent made them titanium, made them better, untouchable and clean.

Even in Teikou there were people like that. Aomine was like that, at the end.

...  _Is_  like that.

Sometimes, you still picture a blinding white grin when you think of him, the way he'd pester you for a game until Momoi dragged him away.

Now, The only difference between him and Dude-bro is Aomine actually  _is_  that good.

If you were a better person, you'd feel guilty.

You're not. The only thing you feel is tired.

Jokes on you.

It's  _Kise_  you should have ignored.

He remains the only person you'd stop being selfish for; the only rope you hesitate to cut.

With the first three gone, the rest of the freshmen slowly trickle away, like water through a cracked bow until it's only you, Kuroko, Kagami and two others. Both of them look familiar, even if you don't remember their names. One tall and one short. The short one squeaks when you look at him.

"Everyone done being fucking cowards?" Kagami glowers at the rest of you.

No one says anything.

"Finally. Let's go already."

You roll your eyes.

Aida is waiting at the gates, arms crossed over her chest. Her mouth goes tight and her eyes flicker over you, taking the head count. Than she visible shakes herself and the look goes away. "Excellent. Let's get this show on the road! Name, Class and Goal!"

You ignore the others and look up at the sky, hands crossed behind your head. Clouds gathered in a shroud around the sun.

Rain…

It feels like you're forgetting something.

* * *

The rest of the week drags like Murasakibara's feet on the way to practice. The other two freshmen make it into the club, and you settle into a routine. You think about quitting at least three times a day - more.

The ball starts feeling like a part of your body. It's easy to the point where you want to die. You hate it.

Or, you would, if you had the energy. The most you can muster is a vague, weary resentment.

"Alright brats, listen up!" Hyuuga shouts. "We're going to split into teams and do a little practice!"

"Oh. Does that mean it's going to be freshmen against the seniors?" Izuki asks.

The captain's glasses glint in the light. "That's right."

Timid guy gulps.

"Sounds like fun." Kagami stretches his arms overhead. "Let's do it."

"That's the spirit." Aida says. "Alright, the first-years come over here. There are five of you, so the teams should be even… wait, where's Kuroko?"

"Right here, coach." Kuroko says from behind Kagami.

Kagami jumps and looks to the side. "Kuroko! How long have you been standing there?"

Kuroko blinks like a lizard. "Kagami-kun is the one who stood by me."

"...Goddammit."

You roll your eyes. What a fucking liar.

Aida claps her hands together sharply. "Alright, enough of that. Get on the court."

"Yes coach." The freshmen chorus.

You stretch your arms out and study the upperclassmen. The five of them look relaxed, calm. Made sense. They were a group of finalists last year. You glance at your teammates and catch the small, timid one's eyes.

He squeaks again and looks away.

You should probably learn his name.

Kagami clears his throat to get your attention. "Are you sure you want to wear that? It's a little…"

Your practice gear consists of a pair of shorts and a tank top. You give him a deadpan look. "We're wearing the same thing."

The boy flushes. "I can see your  _bra_!"

You glance away from him, already bored. "You're welcome."

He sputters and Kuroko sighs. "Mashiro-san, please don't antagonize the team."

Your lip curls. You don't say anything; the silence speak for itself.

The other two freshmen shift awkwardly in the quiet.

"L-let's have a good game." The timid one says to the captain, almost like a question.

Hyuuga cracks his neck. "Lets."

He and Kagami stand in the middle, with Aida holding the ball.

"Let's have some fun." She says.

Then the time for talk is over - Aida blows the whistle and Hyuuga and Kagami both jump for it. Kagami gets the ball, and knocks it into the air. Take one step back and catch it by the tips of your fingers, and let it roll down your arm, over your shoulders into your left hand; the movement is smooth.

"The hell?" Hyuuga says, a disbelieving smile on his face.

You flick your wrist and send it back to Kagami within the blink of an eye, and he snatches it out of the air with a laugh. You've never played in a match before. Only one vs. one.

Should be interesting.

Plus, there's Kuroko to consider. You've never played with him either - will the two of you match up?

You unfocus your eyes until the court blurs - there.

A flash of blue to the left of you. He's already collapsed into shadow - the upperclassmen's eyes slide over him like he's a particularly boring piece of wall.

You catch his eyes.

_Give me the ball._

His face is blank, but he gives you a small nod.

No matter how much you don't like him, you've known him for nearly all of middle school. It's enough to make his movements clear as glass.

It's like your mind splits in two; one part of it belongs to the body, a pure, physical thing without a thought for the people around ti. The other is purely analytical and moving almost to fast to understand. It feeds fact after fact into your body, working as a single machine in perpetual motion.

You've never felt your body settle into something so well and you hate it. It's so easy that you want to throw up. The normal impatience is gone, leaving only a surety of motion. It's like having a camera in you hand, your finger on the button, hearing the shutter and knowing you have something worth keeping.

_Click._

You have the ball in your hands, fingers stinging under Kuroko's pass strength.

_Click._

Brush past the smiling sempai — his eyes blown open wide for once — under the arms of the captain, step back from the arms lunging for the ball. You toss it your head and follow the arm in your head.

A shadow appeared behind you, looms over your head. Kagami slams the ball down in the net, a feral grin on his face.

_Click._

No one catches the rebound. They're too busy staring at you and Kagami.

"I knew you were strong." Kagami clapped you on the shoulder hard enough to stagger you. "After this we should —"

"Pass." You pick up the ball.

"Aw c'mon, it'll be fun!"

You ignore him. "Are we still playing?"

Hyuuga shook his head like a dog shaking off water. "You bet your ass we are. Can't let you show us up."

Good luck with that.

If you had to say, Kagami's skill level is about kise the first month he started playing. Not bad, but not good enough. There might be potential there, but Kagami's not there yet.

You heart sinks.

...this might take longer than you thought.

He misses shots Midorima would make in his sleep. He's not as fast as Aomine, as tall as Murasakibara, as skilled as Akashi, as talented as Kise.

This is the kid you have to drag up to that level?

Of course it goes downhill from there. Kagami quickly gets covered by three of the sempai.

You could score by yourself, but…

...effort.

_Ugh._

Basketball is a team sport, so you pass the ball to the nervous kid - who fumbles it with a yelp. He shakes out his hands. The taller one knocks it out of the air, almost out of the court. There's a moment of silence. The cat faced senior picks it up with almost insulting ease and passes it to the captain, who sets up a three pointer.

The kid goes pale. "S-sorry!"

How can they be so slow? The irritation bubbles up in the back of your mind, and you let out a deep breath.

These kids can't keep up with you.

It's not their fault, just a fact. Irritation uses too much energy. You can't afford it right now.

"Sorry!" The kid's face is miserable and a deep red.

Kuroko steps up to his side — not that anyone but you notices — and you can't read the look on his face. It's conflicted. He doesn't say anything so you ignore him.

A puff of air escapes you. "It's fine." You hold up your hand. "Punch as hard as you can."

He blinks. "W-what?"

Is he deaf? "Punch my hand."

"But - but "

_Jesus Christ._

"Do it." You snap, channel Akashi in one of his moods; the boy squeaks and lashes out with a fist, connects solidly with your palm. It stings a bit.

You shake your palm. "Good." Now you know his hand eye coordination, and his top speed. You only have to slow down enough to match him. "Now you."

The tall one doesn't hesitate, and punches your palm.

You nod at them and let the new knowledge sink into your body on automatic.

Kuroko's eyes are steady on you when you look up.

You raise an eyebrow. How long have you watched him play in games? You know what Kuroko is capable of.

You're not giving him a chance to punch you.

"Alright. Let's get back to it." You say.

And they do.

It's not simple. You don't pass the ball too hard again, but that doesn't make the other problems go away. Kagami is hot headed. Kuroko is _weak_. The other two are plainly not on your level. You're  _bored_.One of the hardest parts is slowing down. The rest of the team - even Kagami, even Kuroko - they can't keep up with you. You feel like you're moving through molasses. Kagami and you work around each other awkwardly, Kuroko and you have no real teamwork to speak of beyond 'get you the ball'.

Still, your team manages to pull it off by the skin of their teeth. The game ends with the freshmen winning. You're not surprised. With Kagami and Kuroko and you on one team, it'd be stranger if you didn't win.

It's good enough for you — and for Aida, going by the look of satisfaction on her face. "Well, done everyone! I think that this is going to be a good year."

You cross your arms behind your head, and try not to let the your teammates drip their sweat on you. How were they so sweaty in the first place? You feel fine.

Ugh.

"I'll say." Hyuuga scrubs at the sweat coating his forehead. "We got a bunch of monsters." But he sounds more pleased than anything.

You look at Kagami — and find him looking back.

He bares his teeth at you in a parody of a smile.

Face blank, you ignore his outstretched fist and walk away. Let Kuroko take it.

You're not here to make friends.

* * *

The gathering clouds finally break the next day. You wait, still in uniform, for the guys to get done with the locker room and change yourself. The last time you tried changing with everyone, they all screamed like babies and made Aida drag you out of the room. You're doing drills at the moment and it's not hard, but it is time consuming. It's mindless, but it's an almost pleasant mindlessness. You don't think much while doing it - it's like your body is set to automatic. Point and shoot.

_Swish._

_Swish._

_Swish._

"Alright, the locker room is free." Hyuuga says, interrupting the flow of your practice.

You blink and pass the ball through the net behind you, know the arc even with your back turned. "Alright."

 _Swish_.

Hyuuga roughly messes up your hair with an eye roll. "Quit showing off, you brat." Any hesitance over your gender vanished in the two weeks you've been on the team; he treats you like a shorter, smarter version of Kagami.

You blink once at his back. Your forehead feels tingly, like the skin their didn't know what to make of the warmth of someone's hand on it.

When was the last time someone touched you outside of basketball practice?

Teikou. Momoi, with her hand on your arm; her fingers tracing a strange pattern while she talks makeup with Kise and a bored looking Aomine. The scene is so vivid you swallow and taste her strawberry perfume on your tongue. Kise, laughing from the other side of the table, a real laugh.

"Hana-chan?"

Your hands tighten on the basketball - in anyone else it'd be called a flinch.

 _Not Momoi_. Momoi doesn't even go here.

You turn to Aida. "Coach."

She stares at your face, and you can't read her. "We're starting."

Put the thought away. Akashi, Murasakibara, Midorima, Aomine, Momoi, Kise. None of them are here, with you. Every day that passes, they seem less real. Less present. Teikou begins to sound like a story you told yourself. A place where you were nearly happy.

_Sentiment._

Tch. You shake your head and go get changed.

The feeling follows you all through practice. You almost fumble a ball -  _you_.

Kuroko is quiet too; more than usual. He became even more transparent to the point where you were having trouble seeing him. He didn't speak to anyone, not even Kagami. You watched him flip through a magazine during break and catch a flash of gold on gold. You turn away and let the timid freshman lure you into a one on one.

_Should probably learn his name._

After the game is done and the freshman is a sweaty mess on the floor you sigh and look up at the sky. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Kagami fidgeting like a little kid, kis eyes bright. "Play me next!" He says.

"Too tired."

"Liar! You're not even sweating!" He glowered. "Come on, Hana! Why will you play a game with everyone else but me?"

Because you don't want to be considered a Aomine-class rival.

(Also, since when did you give him permission to use your first name?)

You yawn and throw the ball to Hyuuga. "The captain will play with you."

Kagami scowls. "I want  _you_  -"

Hyuuga rolls his eyes and grabs Kagami by the collar, drags him onto the court. "Quit bothering your teammates. Get back to work!"

The rest of the club does as he says.

A little bit later, Timid guy looks around. "Where's the coach?"

For some reason the two of you have been designated partners. He's stopped flinching when you look at him, but he still can't meet your eyes without a squeak.

Hyuuga glances around and groans. "Oh man. You better be ready, because if that girl skipped practice, she's got something planned."

A ear splitting shriek breaks the air.

The ball tumbled from your numb fingers.

You look over to Kuroko - and find him already looking back. How many times have your heard that particular tone of scream? The delight, the sheer manic devotion in it, how could you not recognise it?

Kuroko does to. You could see the realization forming in his face, blank as it was.

The two of your look at the door as one - and there he was.

Kise's gold hair looks out of place in the small gym, like finding a glittering gem in the gutter. A crowd of fluttering girls surrounds him, chattering a mile a minute. He chatters back, easily keeping up with all of them.

"Who the hell are you?" Kagami demands.

Kise gives him a sheepish look. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to make a scene, they just showed up." He looked over the team.

"Kise Ryouta," Kuroko says. "A member of the Generation of Miracles."

Kagami bliks. "Seriously? This flashy guy?"

Kise pouts. "Who're you calling flashy? Your hair is the tackiest thing I've ever seen. That shade of red? If you're going to copy Akashicchi, you should at least get the shade right." He hugs Kuroko to his chest. "Seriously, Kurokocchi, this is your new light? He's so… weak looking. Aominecchi is better than him. I'm way better than him. That's why you should come play with me!"

Kuroko's poker face doesn't crack. "Kagami-kun isn't my new light."

"Really?" Kise beams at Kuroko, and the girls around him squeal. "Y-you don't have one? I can be your light if -"

Kuroko glances at you, and your stomach drops. "No thank you, Kise-kun. I  _do_  have a light. Kagami-kun is not it."

Your chest goes tight with Kise's frown. No voice escapes your throat.

"If it's not him, then who —"

You step back - but it's too late.

Gold eyes find at you. Kise looks right at you and his face - cracks.

He takes one step back and lets Kuroko slip from his arms. "H-Hanachii?"

A spike of cold pierces your heart. You clutch the basketball to you chest like a shield.

It's only been two months, and still your reaction to seeing Kise take you by surprise. It's like picking up a camera again. He bleeds color, every movement drags a ribbon of vividness behind it, like paint spreading in water. Apathy burns away like Kise is a miniature sun. You— you  _feel_. You forgot how affection tastes, the bubble of it his gold hair inspires. It rushes up like lava from volcano and pours over your body like it's a small town, to fast to evacuate. No survivors.

You  _missed_  him.

"Kise." your voice sounds horse, like you haven't spoken in weeks. "Long time, no see."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year guys!
> 
> trying to make things a little more regular. future chapters will be shorter like 3000-4000 words, not the 6000-8000 I've been putting out. Gotta focus on real life for a bit lol, but hopefully the chapters will increase from once every two months to twice a month. 
> 
> hopefully.


	10. X

"Wait," Kagami says. "You know the Generation of miracles too, Hana?"

"Mashiro-san was friends with most of them." Kuroko's monotone voice fills the room.

Kise- shuts down. One fangirl gets a look at his face and stumbles back, autograph paper still clutched in her trembling hands. "Mashi -? No, never mind that.  _That's_  all you have to say? 'Long time, no see'?"

What else is there?

He throws up his hands. "What the hell are you  _doing_ here, Hana?"

You flinch.

The way your name, stripped of all affection, comes out of his mouth feels... wrong, unnatural. You've been Hanacchi for as long as Kise could talk. A razor blade shoved somewhere deep inside your chest twists.

"Kise-kun?" Kuroko says, a sliver of concern in his voice.

Kise glances at him, and visibly pulls his smile back on. "Sorry, Kurokocchi. I was... surprised. This was the last place I expected to find Hana."

Kuroko's eyes flickers between the two of you. "She... didn't tell you."

The smile on his face is painful to look at. "Nope! I had no idea where she was. Where  _you_  were. Momoicchi only told me that _you_  were here last week. I came to invite you to play with me, at Kajou!"

And it finally hits you.

You hurt him.

The rest of the conversation turns to white hands tremble once but you're too busy trying not to throw up. The horror of the thought fills your throat, leaves you breathless like you've been gut punched.

You hurt Kise, badly enough that he can't even look at you and —

A broad back fills your vision, cuts Kise out of your line of sight.

"Alright, that's enough of that." Hyuuga says from in front of you, and his voice is stern even though you can't see his face. "I don't care if how famous you are. You don't get to come into my court and harass my players. Tell us what you want or leave. I don't care which."

"Your..." You can't see Kise, but the confusion comes through anyway. "Kurokochii? Hana's really -"

"Yes." Kuroko says. "My light."

You lean around Hyuuga, mouth open to explain - and nothing comes out.

You've never been a liar.

Kise looks at him and then at you, and he laughs; the sound cut. "So that's how it is. Even though -" He cuts himself off, but it's too late.

 _Even though you know how I feel, you still did_  this _._

Your stomach roils.

He's not wrong. You know. You  _knew._  Still, you accepted Kuroko's offer, even if it's everything Kise's ever wanted. There's nothing you can say. No words that will explain how little you want to be here. How much you wish it was him, instead of you. He should already know this, because he understands your more than anyone else.

Or he did.

You look at his gold hair, his pale, tired face, and it's like meeting a stranger for the first time.

Kise rubs a hand across his face, and you notice the dark circles under his eyes for the first time. "Fine.  _Fine_. I'll see you on the court tomorrow.  _Both_  of you." He leaves the gym with heavy feet, and his fan club recedes like the tide.

A strange silence falls in his wake.

"I don't suppose either of you is going to explain that little exchange." Hyuuga says.

This time, you don't have to look at Kuroko to come to an understanding. No. You think about opening your mouth and telling this team - your team, for now - how the group of people you were never a part of, apart from, came crashing down. You can't. Your mouth stills, your tongue rebels. They didn't belong to you, but that doesn't matter. These people are outsiders. Strangers.

Kuroko wants to talk about it even less, because He vanishes between one blink and the next.

The world spins around you. You hear a voice speaking from far away, one that sounds like yours. "I feel a little sick, Coach. I'm going to the nurse."

Aida says something back, but you can't hear anything over the ocean in your ears.

You leave the gym.

* * *

You don't go to the nurses office. You don't know where you go, the world moving by in a cloud of gray fog. You find a corner coated in dust and you sit down, ignoring the way dirt sticks to your sweaty skin. There are no windows here, so you don't know how long you just... sit there, stare at the blank white wall. Blue and black spots dance across your vision, and your eyes itch. You blink as little as possible, because every time you do Kise's face shows up like the afterimage of a camera flash.

The nausea fades, drains out of you like blood from a punctured IV bag. All you have left is a numb exhaustion.

You don't sleep. You don't think.

You just exist.

One thought breaths itself to life, resurrects no matter how many times you kill it.

Why didn't you tell Kise you were going?

It's a thought you try to avoid. You know the reason, but it's so sour, so weak, it can't belong to you.

You wanted -

It hurts the way ripping off a bandage hurts.

You wanted to be found.

The sheer pettines of the thought surprises you out of numbness, a hammer through a brick wall.

You...  _you_  wanted him to look for you, out of his own accord.

Your lips curl up the slightest bit. Looks like you're not as immune to living as you thought. In a handful of years, these people you thought so important will be dust, along with your own body.

They don't -  _matter_.

Not really.

You don't know why it hurts so much.

The dark is waiting for all of you in the end, and what are bonds in the face of it? Like a mountain in the sea. Eventually everything gets worn away. It's not worth the pain, not worth the effort to care.

You close your eyes.

* * *

Sometimes you make it back to your apartment, and collapse onto the floor there. But the days were you have the energy to care about that stuff are few and far in between. You know it's not healthy to find the nearest flat surface and not move until your alarm goes off in the morning, but caring takes something you don't have. On your bad days, you don't even make it out of the school.

Today is a bad day.

By the time you make it out of the dusty corner, all of the students are gone. Your legs feel like bricks tied to the end of your feet. Your eyes keep drooping closed. You make it around the corner before you just - give up. Slide down the wall and let gravity do the rest. The floor is cold and it seeps into your bones. It's pleasant, so you press your forehead to the floor. It's just... so much work.

Each day matters less than the day before. The decline is miniscule, but exponential, building up on the day before, until you look at your brother and feel - nothing.

You can't run from the dark.

"Hana?" Kagami's voice asks. "What the hell are you doing?"

You groan out loud.

_Of course._

Of course it's Kagami who finds you on one of your bad days. At least Kuroko would just leave you where you were. The feeling is faded and worn but it's still the strongest thing you've felt in… a while.

A hand lifts back your head, forcing you to meet Kagami's eyes. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

Words. You remember words.

A beat passes while you try to remember why you need them. "Fuck off, Kagami. 'M fine. 'M  _always_  fine."

He sniffs the air. "...are you  _drunk_?"

You close your eyes, already done with this conversation. Kagami runs hot; his hand is like a sun spot on your shoulder, distracting you from the wonderful cold. The look in his eyes - annoyance and exasperation and something close to worry - it's so familiar, it burns. Kise, Akashi, Your parents - all of them had a variation of that look.

You hate it. The concern, the awful obligation it presents you. You turn your head away, close your eyes.

A beat passes. Kagami says something but his voice is far away.

Than, movement. Kagami picks you up without effort and puts you over his shoulder. You contemplate kicking him in the head, but - it's too much work. You let him carry you.

 _Cold_!

Breath escapes you and you sit up with a gasp. You blink and look around. This was... the locker room?

"Finally awake?"

You tilt your head. "Kagami. Why am in the shower."

He snorts and pushes off from the wall. "Ask yourself that, you moron. Who sleeps falls asleep in a school hallway? Huh?" He twisted the nob and the water shut off. " What if you got found by a teacher? What if you were attacked by a weirdo?"

Like the random foreign kid who threw you in the shower with all your clothes on?

You blink the water out of your eyes. "Why are you even here? It's like -" You glance at the clock. "Three in the morning?"

_Whoops._

He scoffs. "I could ask you the same thing."

"Why do you care?"

"Why do I - why do I _care_?" He scowls. "Are you fucking serious?"

Obviously. You sit up, muscles stiff and achy.

"You  _are_  serious. I helped you because you're my teammate." Kagami says slowly, like you're stupid. "What the fuck was your last team like? Didn't they ever help you out?"

"I've never played on a team before." You brush the wet hair out of your face. "I've only ever played one on one games with one of my former sempai."

Nijimura is always brutal, no matter what type of basketball he's playing. No mercy, no slowing down, no slipping. He's the type that shoves you past the finish line with a broken bone. Never once tried to take care of you, because you didn't need it.

He slips and catches himself on the wall, stares at you with a look of disbelief. "No. Now I know you're shitting me. How do you play so well then?"

You shrug. "Natural talent."

The look on his face. The terrible ,familiar, envy, the kindling resentment. You sigh, stare up at the off white tiles on the ceiling, tired already. New person, same old bullshit. You didn't ask for this body - you'd rather not have it at all. Shredded uniforms, book-bags dumped into fountains, whisper campaigns every other week, attention you never ask for. There's always some new, awful thing about being around people.

They want you to be the best and resent when you are. They want you to be  _better_. They want you to slow down, with the rest of the class.. They want you to strip your body down, down to the barest essentials - talent, skill, power - and pass them around for the rest of them to enjoy. They want you to apologize for being what you are, what you had no choice about.

Even Kise. Even Nijimura.

Nevermind that would leave you with nothing. Never mind you'd be more hole than person.

It's exhausting.

The only thing you can do in the face of people who want to take everything you are is hold everything in a death grip close to your chest.

"I'm not a people person." You say.

Kagami rubs a hand down his face. "You can say that again." He says in english. "Here." He threw a something at you and you catch it reflexively.

It's a change of clothes.

"Your locker was open, by the way."

You shrug. Nothing in there was worth protecting. You pull off your shirt and bra without a thought.

After three weeks with you, Kagami doesn't blink. He does do an about face, though. "Warn a guy when you're going to do that."

"When I meet a guy, I will."

" _Such_  a bitch."

You finish changing and Kagami turns around to look at you.

A moment of quiet grows, blooms into something awkward. What are you supposed to do now? Thank him? You don't feel very thankful.

Mostly you feel tired.

Kagami claps his hands together. "Alright, we're going to get some food. If I have to deal with your bullshit, I'm going to need a full stomach."

You don't get a chance to protest, because he grabs your wrist and pulls you behind him like a toddler with their security blanket, or a dog on a leash.

You let him.

* * *

The two of you end up at Maji Burger, the only place open at this god forsaken hour. The girl behind the counter looks as bored as you do - or she does until Kagami orders a literal mountain of food. Then she just looks horrified.

 _You're_  a little horrified. The pile of burgers is almost as tall as you are, and it's a disgusting to see him go at it. Like watching a rabbit go through a wood chipper.

"What were you even doing at school?" You ask, voice toneless. You poke the burger listlessly - and it squelchs.

_Ugh._

Kagami had no problem with hamburgers for breakfast, with the rate he ate them. "I was too excited to sleep, so I decided to get there early to shoot some hoops."

"At three in the morning."

"At least I actually left."

Fair enough.

"So," Kagami says through a mouthful of food. "I heard that you came from Teikou, like Kuroko."

"Did he tell you that?"

"No. He barely even talks about you. The two of you are super fucking weird about each other, by the way. Like, at first I'm sure it's hate but then you go and do some weird telepathy thing and manage whole conversations without saying a word. It's bizarre."

The plastic seat squeaks when you shift back. It might just be the cheapest thing you ever touch in this life and the thought fills you with a little disgust - and your disgust fills you with disgust.

Are... are you a spoiled rich girl? Is that what's happening here?

Your worldview is  _shook_.

Then Kagami's words catch up with you, and the terrible realizations train chugs along.

"We don't have a 'telepathic thing'," You protest.

Kagami snorts. "Pull the other one, it's got bells on it." He says. In english. He makes a face. "Sorry. I don't know the phrase for what you just said in japanese, but it's bullshit."

Even if you had an explanation, you wouldn't tell him.

Telepathic thing, your ass.

You give him a disinterested glance and continue picking at your food.

"Fine," Kagami says around a mouthful of food. "Be that way."

And that's the last thing either of you say for the next four hours. Neither of you have anywhere to be until seven, so you sit and watch Kagami go back to the increasingly horrified worker for seconds two more times. She gives you wide eyes and you give her a shrug. Kagami's stomach is probably a black hole.

At seven, the two of you head back to the school to find the rest of the team is waiting for you at the bus.

Aida tapps her foot. "You're late."

"We're ten minutes early." You say.

She waves that away like facts are a passing fancy. "Everyone else is here. We're just waiting on Kuroko."

Your brow furrows. "He's standing right behind you."

As one, the team glances behind her - and jumps.

Even Kagami. "Goddammit Kuroko!  _Say_  something next time."

Kuroko's gaze flickers from you too Kagami. You can't read the expression on his face - only that it's there. He looks you in the eyes and suddenly you can read the suspicion in them. Why are you with Kagami?

_"That mind reading thing you two do is fucking weird by the way."_

Shit. Kagami is  _right_.

You look at him- only to find him looking at you with raised eyebrows and an 'I told you so' expression on his face.

You turn away, hands in pockets, a minuscule scowl on your face. You don't  _want_  a telepathy bond with Kuroko. You don't like him, and he doesn't like you. If you don't acknowledge it, that means it's not a problem.

The Kise school of problem solving.

The thought wipes any sort of emotion from your face.

Right. You almost forgot where you were going.

The bus ride is full of chatter and Kagami pulls you into the window seat and sits next to you, effectively trapping you. You could push your way out, move to the mostly empty back, but you snatch the timid freshman (who's name you still don't know) jacket from him and cover your head, create your own little bubble of silence and dark. Kagami snorts, but he doesn't bother you.

Anything that happens outside it isn't your problem. You close your eyes and let the vibrations of the bus underneath you and the furnace of Kagami next to you.

You sleep.

* * *

An unknown member of the team - probably a manager, going by the fact she was a girl - meets you all at the gate and leads you to the gym. Or she tries, could find it anyway. You just just have to follow Kagami and Kuroko. The basketball maniacs head towards the sound of dribbling and squeaking shoes like homing pigeons. The rest of the team exchanges a look and follows behind them. The manager trails behind with a dejected look on her face.

Inside the gym, you press your hand to your head, trying to stave off the inevitable headache. The court is well maintained, even though it smells like sweat and teenage boys. The whole team is nearly three times the members of Seirin. A few of them look over the team. You feel eyes on you, but you keep your eyes forward. Kise's fan-club line the upper balconies, a sea of giddy girls. Kajou's team ignores them the way Teikou used to.

The coach is a large man with a pathetic beard and a talent for pissing people off. Within seconds, everyone on the team is seething, frothing like soup left on a stove. It's only a matter of time before they boil over.

For once, none of the team care that you change with them. They're to focused on trash talking the coach of the other team.

You... kinda can't blame them. He did no research at all. Seirin, with a team of first years, nearly made it to the nationals last year. Even with just the original starters, they'd be able to make it difficult for Kaijou. And this asshole wants to practice on half a court?

What a moron.

After changing, Kuroko lets the rest of the team to pass him by, stops you with one hand on the shoulder. **  
**

"Mashiro-san never told Kise where she was going."

You flex your fingers. "Did you?"

His face is blank and very judgmental. "That's rather different."

Different how? Didn't Kise make it clear that he likes Kuroko more than anyone else? Didn't he come to Seirin just to find him, to take him back with him?

"It's really not." You say.

"...Mashiro-san. What would you say your relationship with Kise-kun is?"

"Friends."

_Siblings._

Though that probably doesn't apply now. A spike of white hot pain rockets up your neck.

You've never seen him so angry.

His blue eyes drill into your black ones. "There are no friends on the court. Mashiro-san must not hesitate."

You roll your eyes. "Have I ever gone easy on anyone?"

_Please._

You're not the type to tone yourself down just to make people feel better about themselves. If you were, your life would be so much easier.

Kuroko nods once. "That's true." He holds out his hand, and in it is the one of the black wristbands he always wears. "A truce, then."

You look at that pale hand, that black band.

You take it, put it on your left wrist. The opposite side of Kurokos'. It feels heavy on your wrist, a physical reminder of the promise you made, the terms you set. A rope of your own making.

Kise is on the other side of the court An opponent, for the first time in your life.

That's fine.

This is what you're here for.

"Truce." You say.

* * *

The two teams line up in the court, facing each other. The coach sighs. "Alright, lets get this over with. We look forward to -" His eyes stop on you. "You're a girl."

A hush spread on the court.

You glance down at your boobs and then look blankly at him. "Yeah."

His mouth opens and shuts. "You're a girl."

Yeah. Still true. "And your point is..."

"We can't play a girl! You'll get hurt!"

Seirin snorts as one. They know better.

"That sounds like a you problem." You pull your shirt straight, tap your shoes on the gym floor. The rest of Seirin is watching with mild interest, like it has nothing to do with them. They're used to you by now.

"This is ridiculous." The coach snaps. "Do you think this is a joke? Take her out and put a  _real_  player in."

Aida smiles, sharp as a blade. "Please stop telling me how to manage my team and worry about your own."

The man nearly goes purple.

"Besides." She shrugs. "If something like this is enough to throw your team off. Well. They don't deserve to win. Do they?"

There's nothing the coach can say to that. He storms off with a thunderous expression on his face; proably going to find a rule against your precnece.

You're not worried. You sent the playbook to your mom and she poured over it with a fine toothed comb. There's no rule against girls playing on boys teams. If he tires force the issue... well. You could bury them in legal issues.

One of the boys broke from the crowd, a dark haired, serious looking one. "My name is Kasamatsu. I'm the captain of the team."

"Hyuuga." The captains says. "A pleasure."

Kasamatsu glances at the coach. "Yeah, I'll bet." His tone was apologetic. "Sorry about him."

Aida smiled. "Don't worry about it. You don't get to choose your coach."

"Ain't that the truth."

You feel eyes on your back and you look up to find him watching you with arms crossed and a frown on his face. "You're really going to play?"

You shrug. "Apparently."

"It might get rough."

A large, warm hand comes down to ruffle your hair. "You don't need to worry about her," Kagami says. "Trust me. By the end, you'll be wishing that she wasn't playing. Ow!"

You twist his skin again. "Don't be so condescending."

"Bitch!"

"Moron."

"Line up!" The other coach cries out.

Kasamatsu shakes his head. "If you say so."

You step out with your team- and the entire building presses down on you with pressure, like you walked into the bottom of the ocean. It's nothing like practice with Seirin, or even one on ones with Nijimura.

Your shoulders stay straight. Your gaze stays calm.

Whatever pressure the world wants to put on you, you can take it.

No gold on the opposite team. You blink and glance over at the bench. Kise vibrates, fingers tap, feet shuffle, eyes glued to the court.

His eyes  _burn_.

"Kise's sitting out?" You murmur to Kuroko.

He glances to the side. "We'll just have to make him play."

You adjust the wristband with your teeth. "Right."

Kagami's smile is full of blood thirst. "Well said."

Between you and Kagami, they don't have much of a chance. You interlace your fingers behind your back in a stretch. You and Kuroko never played together as a team.

_Sink or swim time._

The teams line up. The referee furrows his brows. "Seirin, please call your fifth player -"

"He's right here." You say, gesture at Kuroko with your chin.

The ref blinks and Kaijou jumps, before they exchange glances. You know what they think: Weak, almost transparent.

The referee whistle blows, and then the time for talk is over.

You exhale.

The ball is in the air.

The game starts.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i wanted to get the ball rolling (pun intended) on the match this chapter but then i got super sick and lost all of my free time to sleeping and kagami and hana wanted to bond
> 
> eh
> 
> also, i was thinking about doing short interludes from the pov of other characters. would you guys be interested in that?
> 
> up next: game time


	11. XI. Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> KISE POV AHEAD

**interlude one:**

**gold**

* * *

"Two managers for a team that size? Seirin is lucky."

"The dark haired one is kinda cute."

"She's too boyish. Nah, I prefer the older type."

"Gross, dude."

"Wait - she's on the court. Is - is she _playing_?"

Kise's hands lock together in front of his mouth, and he ignores his teammates chatter.

Hana stands with the rest of her - her  _team_. The white jersey is strange against her skin, her dark hair, like the whole world takes a step to the left while Kise isn't looking. It feels like a joke, but Kise can't bring himself to laugh. There's nothing funny about the way Kuroko and the tall redhead bracket her, parentheses around a whisper.

Kasamatsu gets the ball in the toss up, but not for long.

Kuroko knocks it out of his hands, into Hana's grasp.

She leans back, lets a lunge pass by her before she tosses the ball behind her without a single look.

The red head - Kagami - snatches the ball out of the air, blasts down the court with Hana close behind.

Kagami slams the ball home with an ear splitting crack.

The hoop shudders once, then comes clean with the sound of metal on metal.

A hush falls over the gym.

The whole play lasts for a second, ends clean. Hana, Kuroko and Kagami make a horrifying team.

Kise bites the inside of his cheek.

That should be him. Hana and Kuroko, they should have come with him.

"Ah. It broke." Kagami says. He holds the hoop up to his face. "Hey Kuroko, Hana, hoops are bigger than I thought."

Kise even resents the way Hana's name falls out of Kagami's mouth, like he has a right to it, like he's known her long enough.

Too familiar. Kise keeps the snarl off his face through years of practice. He's never disliked someone this fast, this deeply. Indifference comes naturally to him, just like everything else. It feels like sinking into oil.

_No. Calm down._

This is nothing. Everyone calls Hana by her given name. Kise never heard a single classmate, no matter how distant, call her anything else. It's like an aura of informality around her, stemming from the casual, unshakable confidence she carries like a second skin.

Hana glances over to the bench. Her eyes are dark as always; they look at the world and there's nothing reflected back. Then Kagami slaps her on the back hard enough to rock her backwards. The dark look vanishes into heartbreaking, familiar annoyance.

She says something too low to hear that sends the redhead spluttering.

Kuroko's smile is tiny and gone in a second, but Kise bristles at the sight of it.

"Kise!" The coach calls. "You're in."

The frisson of anticipation climbs up his spine. His team is good, but they're not miracles - against Hana, they don't match up. All of them know Akashi considers her one of them.

Hana glances over the bench. The team ripples where her eyes land, an unconscious flinch at her empty , bored expression. when her eyes hit him - she keeps going. Like he's not there. Like he's smoke.

Something small and cold appears in his heart.

He shakes his head.

Now is not the time.

"You weren't kidding about her." Kasamatsu folds his arms as they watch the janitor repair the hoop. "I couldn't even see her move. How good is she, exactly?"

Kise stretched out his arms behind his head. He'd warned Kasamatsu yesterday, because if he played around Hana like he acted around girls, she'll eat him alive.

Kise steps out onto the court. The girls in the balcony shriek with glee. For once, he ignores them.

"I don't know. I've never seen her play." Kise says. "She doesn't like basketball."

Or she didn't.

"Then how did you..."

He rolls his shoulders. How did he know?

It's Hana.

There's nothing she can't do.

* * *

Kise's first memory goes like this:

The world is a fuzzy blur. The smell of something clean, soft sheets under his grasping hands, his mother's cheerful voice. He turns to find a smudge of black on his right. He blinks and lets go of the sheets, reaches out.

_Warm._

Curious hands already touch for her dark hair - darker than anything that he's ever scene. It's like all of the light entered but nothing left.

The other child makes a low complaining noise, but Kise is too delighted by this new toy to care, and she eventually settle down and let him play.

Kise is happy, and Kise is safe, and Hana is with him. All's right with the world.

Hana is born a week before him.

He's never lived in a world without her.

* * *

The game drags on, and Kise wipes the sweat from his forehead. Numbers pile up on the board like snow on a roof.

Odd as it is to see Hana in the harsh lights of the court, she handles the ball like she's born for it. Her movements are clean. Unhurried. While the rest of the teams are rushing from defense to offence, Hana watches with dark eyes giving nothing away. A rock, letting the stream flow around it. Unmoved.

"How long can she keep going? Even Kagami looks winded, but she hasn't even broken a sweat." Someone asks.

"If she gets tired," Kise says. "I've never seen it."

The team glance at each other.

Kise pulls around Kagami with a beautiful cut technique, brushes past Kuroko and slams the ball through the hoop in an echo of Kagami's earlier move.

The hoop shudders but holds.

_Damn._

Kasamatsu must sense something in his voice, because he narrows his eyes. "Don't let your emotions into the game, Kise. We need to focus."

It's like a bucket of water being dumped on his head. Kise looks at Kasamatsu.

The captain raises an eyebrow. "what?"

"...Nothing." He shakes his head, hard.

Kise's looks back at the court and takes a deep breath. This isn't Teikou. He doesn't have the reassuring strength of his invincible teammates behind him, but he's got to live in the moment.

The clock ticks down and Kise forgets, in the heat of the moment, that he's angry.

Hana's as uncompromising at basketball as she is at everything else - no trick plays, no skill, no prisoners.

Just sheer, terrible talent.

(And Kise understands, for a moment why everyone they meet watches Hana with wary, half terrified eyes. She's a  _genius_.

He's a mess of sweat and determination, and she has the same bored expression as always.

It's like facing Aomine.

Its like Akashi.

It's terrifying.

_She's_  terrifying.

Still.)

Kagami looks over him, that savage grin on his face, and Kise can feel the answering smile on his own.

He's never had so much fun.

* * *

He's five years old, and Hana is still taller than him. Kindergarten is scary, but Hana is there so Kise's not afraid. He knows with all the faith of childhood that nothing bad can happen while she's there.

Out among the other children, Kise realizes how…  _odd_  Hana is.

She grows, but never changes. She's spoken a handful sentences to him in the five years they've been alive. Her eyes are still too dark, with rings under them, like she doesn't sleep.

Sometimes Kise feels like he's looking at an afterimage — a girl that's been gone as long as he's known her.

Sometimes he wants to ask 'why can't you stay here, with me?'

He never does.

He can't. It's like bringing the question to the surface will break her, pop her like a soap bubble in the sun.

What if she says no?

The other kids notice it too. They look at Kise like an idol, and they look at Hana like a threat. They shy away from her, keep her in the corner of their eyes - until they get used to her.

Then they get  _mean_.

Her things disappear, or break. Rumors spread daily. No one quite dares to shove her, but that fades with time. Hana stops speaking in class, because everyone ignores her anyway.

Kids are cruel.

Kise looks at Hana when she holds the shredded scraps of her art project in both hands. He doesn't know what to say. His eyes sting, but _her_  expression never changes.

Neither does the way people treat her.

In elementary she gets better at hiding - or perhaps she just gives up on fitting in. It's easy to meet her eyes through the lens of a camera. She blooms, animates, when she takes photos, so Kise gladly becomes a model. At least he knows she's seeing him.

Sometimes he looks at her and it's like a ghost. He has her hands in a vice grip, but it never seems like enough.

* * *

Kise looks at the scoreboard, eyes stinging, hands clenched, but they don't change. From birth to Teikou, Kise never once lost. Kise looks down at this hands, then over at Seirin. Kuroko. Hana.

He touches his face, and his hands come away wet.

Murmurs drift down from the balcony, rise up from the team, and he can't bring himself to care.

They lost.

... _He_  lost.

He doesn't have the words to describe it. Empty hands. Something bitter on the tongue. A tremor travels from somewhere deep inside of him. Helpless frustration steals his words, his attention. All of the anger is gone, and he feels like a coal about to go out.

Hana is too far away for him to reach.

Kise has never been ' _not good enough_ ' before.

The time for line up is there and by some ugly twist, dark eyes meet Kise's. Hana and Kise stare at each other from across the dividing line.

He moves first, into a bow. "Thank you for the game."

Nothing.

He straightens and hides his trembling fist in his pockets. 

"Kise."

He can't help the flinch. Is this the part where she denounces him?

Kasamatsu's broad shoulders appear in front of him.

Kise blinks.

"Good game." He says, and his voice is gruff and unfriendly.

Is Kasamatsu... protecting him? From  _Hana_?

Hana's arms across, her face is bland as always. Her eyes flicker somewhere over his shoulder - and on another person Kise would call it hesitation, except Hana doesn't hesitate.

"Thanks. I guess." She says after a while.

He hides his sinking heart with a smile. No explanation? No mention of why she just… left?

Well.

It's stupid to expect anything in the first place.

A tiny wrinkle appears in between her brow. "Wait here."

The abrupt order leaves Kasamatsu and Kise blinking.

Hana crosses over to the bench, snatches the pen out of one her teammates hands and a page of a magazine from another. The rip could be heard across the court - that and the boys tiny, anguished 'nooooo'. Hana ignores it and writes something down on the page; she tosses the pen back to the teammate, too fast to see. It hits him in the head.

Kuroko and Kagami argue about something behind her. Neither of them look over.

None of her teammates do.

Seirin isn't afraid of her.

She comes back to the two of them and holds out the paper. "My new phone number."

Kise stares at the scrap of paper. Thousands of thoughts all rush up at once, collide and tangle to the point of agony. Why did you leave, he wants to scream. Kise thought she was  _gone_. He had nightmares of waking up and finding her body, splattered across the ground like a painting.

On bad nights, he woke up half convinced she was just a dream.

The moment drags on. When he doesn't take it, she scratches her head and passes it to Kasamatsu; he blinks at the paper, then turns bright red - a  _girl_  just gave him her phone number.

"Well. You know how to reach me. If you want to." Hana shrugs, and it's all Kise can do keep from crying again.

So awkward.

So beloved.

Still, Kise can't say anything. He feels like a rag, wrung out.

"You want it?" Kasamatsu asks, quietly. The locker room is nearly empty. Kise sat on the bench, head down, elbows on his knees, and he hasn't moved in half an hour.

Kise rubs his face. "I don't know. I'm - I'm angry. At her. I can't -"

He glanced up at Kasamatsu. How to explain the sheer helplessness he felt when he walked in the door to find her gone. How young. How vulnerable.

How unsurprised.

That was the worst part. It was like the world itself accepts her erasure, like she's just mist to dissipate in the sunlight.

Kise looks at the world without her, and he knows he can survive it. She's not permanent; she's just passing through. From the first time he looks into her eyes, he knows that she's not - not right. Not all there. She looks, but she doesn't take anything in.

Maybe it's himself he's disappointed in the most. Kise's always been cold, but he's never thought of himself as heartless before.

He's hurt. He's angry.

At himself, most of all.

Kasamatsu shoves him a little. "Just call her and ask why then."

"It's not that."

"Than what is it?"

Kise hesitates, but in the end shakes his head without saying anything. Hana is always… personal to him in a way that nothing else is.

Kasamatsu sighs and stuffs the paper in Kise's bag. "Geniuses and their drama. If you decide you want it, you know where to find me." He claps Kise on the back, hard enough to sting. "Go cool your head, hotshot."

Kise blinks.

The captain scowls at him. "What?"

"You really suck at cheering people up, senpai."

He scowls. "Oh my god, you are the worst. Your fans are all blind. Go wash up like a civilized

person."

Kise laughs and goes.

* * *

  
Kise tiptoes to Hana's door. Not that it matters - even if she wakes up, she still won't do anything but stare at the wall with blank eyes. They're both thirteen years old and Hana spoken in a week. Every so often she just - shuts down. Bam, the lights are on but nobody's home.

He can't sleep. He can't do much of  _anything_ , these days. The dark is oppressive, and Kise's shoulders round.

He feels small.

Alone.

He opens the door to her room. The food on her nightstand is untouched. Hana moved sometime during the night, from staring at the wall to staring at the ceiling. Her dark eyes are vacant. Her chest rises, imperceptibly. She looks like a corpse.

Sometimes, Hana is a stranger. Her perpetual boredom trades itself in for a gray blankness, a perfect mirror of the world. She lives in her head and lets the silence take her place, becomes a silhouette where Kise's sister should be.

Nothing in.

Nothing out.

Not a reaction. Barely even a person.

Like Hana is already gone.

Each day he steels his heart before he walks into the room. Is today the day he finds an empty shell?

Kise's heart clenches. He touched her wrist, waits until he can hear the slow, steady beat of her heart. Just as he can feel the panic welling up inside, she lets out a little exhale and closes her eyes. Hana is so strong, so  _herself,_  that he never has any idea what to do about these episodes of listlessness.

Kise lets out a long breath and clenches his shaking hands.

Tomorrow. He'll contact Auntie tomorrow.

She'll know what to do.

* * *

Kise avoids the locker rooms in favor of the sinks outside. He ducks his head under a faucet and sets it as cold as he can. He needs the wake up call.

Of  _course_  Hana would win. Partnered with Kuroko, the two of them are unstoppable.

"It was an unlucky day for Geminis. Not that it matters - any monkey could have a dunk festival."

Kise sighs. "What do you want, Midorimacchi?"

Of course, the person he gets along with least is here. All Kise needs to top off this day is for Kuroko to reject him again.

The boy sniffs. He holds a green ceramic frog in his taped hand. "Nothing at all. I happened to be in the neighborhood and stopped by to attend your match. Of course, you were never going to win. It was fate that Gemini would suffer an upset today."

Kise wiped his face with the towel. "Did you come here just to make fun of me?"

Midorima's nose wrinkled. "Of course not. I am not Aomine."

"Then why are you here?"

"Am I not allowed to check out the competition now?"

"Well, you saw it. Now go away." Kise isn't in the mood to talk. He and Midorima were friends, because it was hard not to be when they got shoved into close contact every game - that didn't change Midorima's irritating habits.

Midorima adjusted his glasses, a nervous tick from their Teikou days. "I heard that... that there was a girl on the enemy team. A scary girl."

_Ah._

"It was Hana." Kise says.

Midorima's fingers flexed. "Hana. That's not possible. She was to attend Rakuzan."

Kise's eyebrows drew down. "She told  _you_?"

Why would she tell  _Midorima_  and not Kise?

Midorima shifts. "No. Akashi told me before graduation."

Kise blinks. "Akashicchi? Then why is she in Seirin?"

"Perhaps he changed his mind?"

That earns Midorima a look of disbelief. Akashi didn't do mundane things like  _make mistakes_  or  _change his mind_.

Midorma folds his arms, shoulders stiff. "Well, what do you suggest? Hana turned him down and got away with it?  _Akashi_?"

Kise drops his towel.

It became common place to see Hana hang off Akashi. She's always been a physical person, zero shame all the way down. She had a boyfriend so she'd use him like a personal resting post. Kise would know - he performed that duty for three years.

Hana makes Akashi smile.

Would she throw that away, without mercy? Would she?

Kise and Midorima look at each other, the truth hanging between them - because, yes Hana absolutely would.

At Teikou, the students treated Hana and Akashi as part of a whole; the schools number one power couple. No one liked Hana, but they couldn't deny that she fit Akashi, in power and talent. The two of them never fought, but not because Hana was afraid. It's just that Hana and Akashi have similar ideas about life.

If Akashi tried to make Hana do something...

The silence is oppressive.

The sound of someone panting broke through Kise's horror.

Midorima looks just as glad about the interruption in his own constipated way. "Takao. You're late."

"I'm  _late_?" The dark haired boy gives a breathless laugh. There's a rickshaw, of all things, hitched to his bike. The whole picture had Midorima stamped all over it. "You're heartless Shin-chan! I can't believe you just left me behind like that." He glances at Kise, a slow up and down.

Kise raises an eyebrow. He can recognize when someone is checking him out.

The boy leans over the bike, crossing his arms and gives Kise a cheerful smile. "Oh? You found your friend. I'm Kazunari Takao. I'm a  _big_  fan."

Kise gives the boy an amused smile. He wasn't bad looking, with compact but wiry frame, his hair pulled back out of his dark, sharp eyes, and a badly look of hidden mischief lingering in the corner of his mouth.

"A pleasure." Kise says, tilts his head at an angle he knows catches the sun, makes his gold hair a crown, guilds his skin. He enjoys flirting, so long as that's all it is.

Hana always says -

Kise's smile froze on the edges.

Midorima shifts, and Kise recognizes the first signs of a lecture.

_Think about it later._

He grins at Midorima. "Missed the nickname? She'll be so flattered."

He narrows his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh nothing, Shin-chan."

Midorima pales. "Do _not_  tell her -"

"Her?" Takao's sharp eyes flicker between them. "Who's her? Shin-chan, do you have a girlfriend that I don't know about?"

Kise places his hands behind his head. "Just the only girl that Midorimacchi is -"

"Shut up. Die." Midorima's glare is a thing to behold. He looks at Takao. "Do not concern yourself with the idiocy that drips out of his mouth. He rarely says anything worthwhile."

Takao's smile is teasing, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "I don't know Shin-chan. I might get jealous if you keep talking about friends I don't know."

Kise blinks.

Oh.

_Oh._

...Good luck, Takao. Midorima is one of the densests people Kise's ever met - and unlike Hana, it's not that he doesn't care. It's that he genuinely doesn't notice.

Like now.

Midorima sniffs. "It's none of your business. Now we need to leave, or we'll miss practice entirely."

"Leave? Shin-chan, I just got here! I'm exhausted -"

"Shut up. It's good for your stamina training." Midorima sat in the rickshaw without ceremony. He looks like a prince, and Kise can't suppress a smile this time.

God, he's so glad that he doesn't have to deal with that all day.

Godspeed, Takao Kazunari.

"Kise." Midorima says abruptly. "Tell Hana I said that her lucky item is an umbrella." The bridge of his cheeks are a faint pink.

Kise gives him a smile, small but real. For all of Midorima's… quirks, he's still Kise's friend. "Midorimacchi sure is a tsundere."

" _Die_."

* * *

The number in his bag is a stone. Kise feels heavy. He keeps his eyes on the ground on the walk home from school, the pavement and asphalt pass slowly under his feet. He spins a basketball on his fingertip. It gives him something else to focus on.

After three months of fear, his heart can't quite settle down.

Hana, hair short. Dark circles under her eyes. He thinks about that hellish week, sitting at her bedside and counting the space between breaths.

Who takes care of her now?

His mouth goes tight.

"Kise-kun?"

Kise stops, because he can't forget that voice. He turns.

Kuroko. Even after three months of not seeing him, Kise still feels tongue tied whenever his blue eyes look at him. Even now, all of the fame in Japan doesn't compare to having Kuroko's eyes on him.

Kise's mouth is dry.

All of Kise's life, he's been chased. His looks, his talent, his career - he's not modest. He knows his own value. People look at him and they  _want_. They always want something.

He doesn't know what to do with Kuroko's sincere  _niceness_.

Kuroko looks at him and all he wants is Kise to play basketball with him. He's blunt. He's honest.

Kise wants to die every time Kuroko looks at him. He wants to die when Kuroko looks away.

The rest of Seirin is ahead of Kuroko, loud and happy. A head of blue-black hair by the coach.

Kise, grip white knuckle on his bag, swallows and forces a smile on his face. "Kurokocchi! What amazing timing, what are you doing around here?"

"Coach decided that we should have a team bonding experience." He glances over his shoulder. "I've never seen anyone eat that much in one sitting."

Kise shifts. "Can I borrow you for a bit?"

Kuroko blinks. "Of course."

They chat about meaningless things on the way to a nearby park - well. Kise does. Kuroko listens and responds sparingly. Just like old times.

Kise waves at the few girls who recognize him in the crowd, leaves them with a smile and a wink. He might not find them attractive, but he still likes girls. Growing up with three sisters will do that to a guy. They reach the park before any of them ask for autographs, fortunately.

"Kise-kun is a shameless flirt as always." Kuroko says.

Kise laughs and sits down on a bench. "Be nice Kurokocchi! I can't disappoint my fans, it's rude."

"Shameless. Speaking of which, I saw Midorima-kun."

"You did?"

Kuroko's brows furrow the tiniest bit. "I still don't understand him."

"I don't think anyone does." Kise props his head on one hand. "Seems like he just came to watch today. More importantly, I lost a game, Kurokocchi dumped me again, Hanacchi started playing basketball without telling anyone, _and_  she's going by Mashiro - my high school life is one surprise after another." Kise smiles up at the sky - it's the same color as Kuroko's hair. "I said it because I had nothing to lose, but I really was serious, you know."

"About transferring to your school?" Kuroko hesitates. "...I'm sorry. My place is at Seirin."

And this is the reason that Kise can't kill his feelings. Kuroko and Hana are similar in a lot of ways. However he acts on the surface, Kuroko is resolute as he is kind. Once he decides something no one can move him. For someone like Kise, who drifts through life, that sort of thing is impossible.

"Never mind. I'll live. I do have to ask you, though." Kise looks him in the eye. "Why did you leave without saying anything to us?"

Kuroko's lips pull down. "...To tell you the truth, I don't know."

Kise blinks.

"At Teikou, I was unhappy. Their way of doing things... I hated it. For a long time, I hated it. Hated basketball and anything to do with it." Kuroko looks down at his hands. Calloused fingers, short nails. "Teikou's philosophy was a poison and it was turning me into something I didn't like. So I walked away."

Kuroko... hated basketball?

The words made sense separately, but together turn into something incomprehensible, like saying up was down, or Hana hates photography. Kuroko, who turns himself into a ghost just to play, hated basketball?

Why? Sports were about winning, about being the best. Teikou is the best.

Kise loves Kuroko, but he doesn't always understand him.

"Kise-kun. Did Mashiro-san really not tell you where she was?" Kuroko asks.

Kise laughs, but there's nothing happy about it. "She really didn't."

Kuroko bows. "I have to apologise. It was me who asked her to come with me. I wasn't aware that she didn't -"

"Kurokocchi. Don't worry about it, seriously. When has anyone been able to make Hana do something she doesn't want?"

Kuroko pauses and straightens up. "Never, Kise-kun."

Yeah. If she went, it's because she wanted to. If she stayed, it's because she wanted to.

The two of them watch the players on the court.

"Kurokocchi is happy at Seirin?" Kise asks, finally.

"... Yes. Very happy. Kagami-kun -" Kuroko's hesitation is minuscule. " - and Mashiro-san are strong. Kagami will go far in life. His love for the game is infectious."

Kise can see the truth in his eyes, and he gives him a helpless smile. How would he even argue with that? If Kuroko is happy, if Hana  _wants_  to be there -

Kise sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Then I'm glad. But Kurokocchi has to be careful. People like Kagami will leave you behind."

Kuroko stares up at him with blank eyes.

_People like Hana never stay._

Speak of the devil. A large hand comes down on Kuroko's head. "There you are, you bastard! Are you a little kid? Stop wandering off!"

Kise shifts. "You were listening?"

"Like hell I was!" Kagami glares at Kise. "I don't care how much you like Kuroko, stop kidnapping him!"

"Kidnapping?" Kise pouts. "I was just saying hi to my friend. He came along on his own."

"Kagami-kun is hurting me." Kuroko says, deadpan.

Kuroko looks ridiculous standing by his red haired monster of a teammate, his already short stature made childlike - but Kise can't laugh. Kuroko looks comfortable, in his own understated way. He's already accustomed himself to being in Kagami's shadow.

Defeat is bitter.

Kise smiles. "Kagamicchi is good - but not good enough. Compared to them, I'm still a beginner. You can't defeat the generation of miracles yet. You can't even beat Hanacchi."

Kagami snorts. "Then I'll get better."

And he's utterly serious. Like that's all it takes. Kuroko stands by his side and there's no surprise on his face.

Something inside Kise settles.

Maybe they can do it.

Kise bows to the two of them, serious and formal. "Please take care of Hana for me."

"Kise-kun?" Kuroko's voice is worried.

_Blank eyes. A girl who might vanish at any moment._

"I wasn't enough." Kise's hands fist at his sides. "I know she seems cold, but she  _needs_  people. Please continue to be her friends." He looks up at them.

Kagami sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "You Teikou people have some serious issues. Even if you didn't ask, we'd do it. Hana is our teammate."

"...Yes."

Kise looks up at the sky. Maybe it doesn't have to be all or nothing. Maybe, when the nightmares stop, he'll be able to talk to her without shame.

The number in his backpack feels less like a stone now, and more like a teather.

He thinks about the way her team don't flinch from her. The way Kagami and Kuroko fall into place by her side naturally, where she always walked alone before - and Kise lets himself hope.

Maybe this is enough to save her.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took forever to edit lol and i'm still not sure about it. kise is surprisingly hard to write for. let me know if you guys think that i've kept him in character because i'm a little iffy about it.
> 
> also happy belated anniversary to horseshoes and hand grenades! its now a year since i started writing this garbage fire! hopefully i'll get more than ten chapters done this next year lol


	12. XII

One week after the game, you stare out the classroom window, head in your hands.

Your phone is silent. It's been that way.

It was a long shot. With every passing moment you're sure that bridge is thoroughly burned. It opens up an odd pit inside you, a little hole in the bottom of your stomach, and whatever emotions you still have slip out of it without making an impression.

You think you're sad. Probably.

It's hard to say.

"Hana."

You blink and look up. The sun is high overhead.

Aida stands beside your desk. It's barely lunchtime, so you didn't miss practice.

"...Captain." You say.

Kagami twists around to look from you to her. His mouth is stuffed with food. "Is there something wrong? Did basketball practice get cancelled?"

Aida rolls her eyes, but she can't hide the way her eyebrows pinch together, or the worried crease of her mouth. "My teacher asked me to get Hana and bring her to the principal's office."

Kagami's eyes narrow and he looks at you. "What did you _do_?"

Rude. "What makes you think I did something?"

"Please, like I don't know you have _zero shame_. Did you start changing in the middle of a group of students? Trip someone you don't like? Throw a basketball at someone's head for being annoying? Tell a teacher to fuck off?"

"I would never." Your voice is utterly flat.

Kagami throws his hands up. "You absolutely would! I know because I've  _seen you_ I still have no idea why you didn't get detention from that teacher, by the way."

You shrug. He might have; you weren't really listening. "He's full of shit."

Aida rubs her forehead. "Hana-chan, you didn't."

The teacher in question is one of those bullied nerds that grow up and think their tragic past makes it okay to take it out on the children they teach. A Snape, basically - one of those assholes who gets off on his perceived power - and is secretly a huge coward. Utterly beneath your attention.

You've too little energy to waste on people like that.

Aids sighs. "Why do I always get the problems students? Whatever it is, we'll find out. Come on, Hana-chan."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes. Unless you want to run fifty extra laps?"

_Ugh._

So the two of you go.

"Don't let her do  _any_ of the talking!" Kagami calls out after you.

You flip him off. He's been weirdly clingy; always nagging you for napping, or not eating lunch. In the last three hours alone he gave you three separate types of breads and five candies. His bag must be bigger on the inside, because you see him pull out three foot long subs as you leave the classroom.

You eat the candies and unload the breads onto the wimpy kid from the team who happened to be walking by.

"U-um, thank you?" He says, arms full of bread.

"Whatever."

Aida glances at you and rolls her eyes without comment.

You head up to the principal's office, and Aida stops outside of it. She puts her hands on either of your shoulders and leans in until your faces almost touch. "Hana. Kagami had a point. Let me do the talking." Her eyes are deadly serious. "I don't need you saying something and getting the entire team banned from the tournament. Okay?"

...Exactly what kind of image does she have of you?

You tilt your head and shrug.

She leans in further. "You promise?"

"Yeah, sure."

Aida smile sparkles when she releases you. "Excellent! Let's go."

She enters the office, and you follow her.

The second you step in, you realize it was a mistake to promise. This isn't a conversation.

This is a tribunal.

The headmaster is an old man with a wimpy mustache, salt and pepper hair, and dark rimmed glasses on the end of his nose. He sits behind a dark wood desk. The name plate in front of him reads Jiro Yamada.

Another two men stand behind him - one you sort of recognize as the gym teacher, and the other?

Snape.

He gives you a nasty, superior smile.

You flick your eyes to the ugly toupee perched on his head, back down to his eyes and give him the slightest upturn of your lips.

 _Please._  
  
He flushes red.

"There you are, Aida-chan, Mashiro-chan." The headmaster says. "Please take a seat."

Aida steers you to the seat on the left with one hand on your shoulder, then sits neatly on the edge of the chair to your right. "Of course, sir."

The man steeples his fingers in a way he probably thinks makes him look wise. In reality, he looks like an idiot. "Do you know why I called you here today?"

Bullshit complaints? They need a scapegoat? More jealousy disguised as reasonableness?

You lean back in your chair without saying a thing. Contemplate a nap.

You promised, after all.

Aida glances at you. "No, sir."

The man sighs. "We've recently received a complaint from Kaijou, from the coach there for the behaviour of one of your team on the court. You understand how this is a problem? You swore to control your players when we approved your coaching."

Ah. So that's what they go with. Well - the coach was pretty unpleasant. Being defeated by a team with not just one girl, but  _two_? One as the coach, no less?

He would obviously make trouble.

You tuck your hands into your blazer pockets. Finger the cool plastic of your phone.

The coach narrows her eyes and leans forward. "That's completely unreasonable, sir. How could Kagami know that the hoop was rusted? It shouldn't be on the team from a neighboring school to monitor the upkeep of their equipment."

The principal blinks. "N-no. That's not what i meant Aida-chan."

Not to mention you already took care of it. One perk to having more money than god.

Aida rubs her chin. "Then, were they talking about Captain Hyuuga? He sometimes gets a little …  _excited_ when the game gets rough."

"U-um -"

"Not him either? Well... I honestly have no idea who it could be, then." She looks at you, all puzzled innocence. "Do you Hana-chan?"

You glance at the people behind the desk, then back at the girl sitting beside you.

Is she... helping you?

You don't know what to do with this information, so you just shrug. Stick to your promise.

The principal clears his throat. "I am, in fact speaking about Mashiro-chan."

Aida stares at him with wide eyes. "Hana-chan? Whatever for? She was exemplary in her teamwork and her sportsmanship. What exactly were they complaining about?"

The principal looks behind him, towards the other two and the gym teacher steps forward. "It's not about what she did, Aida-san." The man gives you an apologetic look. He's a good person, but way too serious. "It's about the fact that she, a girl, was playing on the boys team."

The quiet in the room reached absolute zero.

"I'm sorry?" Aida says. Poilite. Friendly. Absolutely not fucking around.

 _You called us up here for_ this _?_

The principal shrinks back - and you don't blame him. If you had any sort of fear response left, you'd be doing the same thing.

_Aida is scary._

Snape slaps a hand on the desk. "This is not a joke, Aida-chan. The school overlooked your... little coaching team, but it's a different matter entirely to have one of them on the team. What do you do about changing room? How do you explain your loss to your teammates?"

You lean back in your chair, and don't hide your tiny smile.

 _'Little coaching thing,'_ huh?

 _This should be funny._  
  
Aida's smile gets brighter. "I think you must be confused, Sensei. Hana-cha was a starting player in our game last night - and we won."

He falters but only for a second. "That's  _beside_ the point. This farce must stop, or punishments will have to be issued."

Aida looks at the pricple. "A punishment, sir? What for?"

"Is it not obvious?" The man pushes up his glasses. "A girl entering into the boy's team is -"

"- Not against the rules." Aida says, smile still on her face.

The three teachers blink.

Aida stands up, hands behind her back and you sink back into your chair even more - and you take your hands from your jacket pockets.

(Of course you were ready for this. How could these grown ass men allow a  _girl_  to upstage their precious team. How could you not know? People always resent you; like this place would be different.

But.

You glance at Aida, back straight, eyes forward, and you think: Maybe.)

She wants you on the team so shell stand in front of you. Even if it's just for your talent, it's still... different. Nice. That you don't have to talk right now.

Is this what it feels like to have a sempai protect you? None of the older students liked being upstaged by you. The only one who was even mildly friendly was Nijimura. Shimada stopped talking to you after you rejected her.

Aida prowls in front of the desk, and maybe this is how she got the school to allow her to coach in the first place. "I can tell that none of you have actually read the rule book; for the school  _or_ for the basketball association." She turns to the desk, all of her sweetness gone. " I have. I can assure you, sir, that nowhere in either of them does it say that girls can't play on the boys team. It doesn't make any mention of gender at  _all,_ in fact. The girl teams use the exact same rule book."

She looms over the desk, hands bracketing the principle. "When I first planned this team, you gave me full control over the members, training, and match scheduling, did you not?"

He glances at the coach - who nods slightly.

Aida smiles like a shark that's scented blood. "Has that changed? Is my team, who made it to nationals in their first year, unsatisfactory?"

"N-no -"

"Excellent!" She stood up straight and clapped her hands together, all sense of pressure gone in a flash. "I'm so glad that we cleared this up! Now, Hana-chan and I have class in a few minutes, so we'll get out of your way, sir."

The headmaster slumps down in his chair, beads of sweat roll down his face. "Th-that should cover everything..."

"You can't be serious!" Snape folds his arms. "We've solved  _nothing!_ How sure are we that Mashiro can even handle being around the boys? She'll distract them from their games. The school will be a laughingstock!"

The coach crosses his arms. "That's true. Girls simply don't have the stamina that boys do. I'm afraid that she'll get hurt."

Aida waves her hand, brushes their comments away. "I understand your concern, Kira-sensei, but I don't give my players special treatment. Hana-chan has completed all of the same exercises that the boys have, without a problem. I doubt that she'll have any issue with the rest of the training. Besides - it's not like we're playing  _football_. Head-on collisions in basketball are rare."

The coach nods thoughtfully. "That's very true. Very well, Aida-chan. I'm sure that you know what you're doing."

"Sir, shouldn't we at least have a clause? What if she gets hurt, wouldn't it be better to have the school not be implicated in it?" Snape glares at you.

The principle frowns in thought. "That might be good. We could have a trial period for her."

"Unless," Aida leans forward. "You plan to have the entire team sign it, I would have to object. Like I said - My players do not receive special treatment. Of  _any_ kind."

And, for the first time, Jiro meets your eyes.

You let your apathy show. If he tries to make you sign anything, you'll just have Nori go over it. Kise's other sister trains under your mom at her firm. If they try to slip any bullshit into your contracts, you'll sue them so hard that a cardboard box to live in would be a luxury.

The headmaster's skin goes the color of sour milk, and he looks away to glare at Snape. "Be quiet! I don't know why you had to make such a big fuss over this. It's not breaking any rules. Let the girl play - if she gets hurt, she gets hurt. There's nothing we can do outside of forbidding it, and that would be -"

"Very unwise." Aida says.

The headmaster pinches the bridge of his nose. " _Yes_. Mashiro, Aida, you're dismissed. Go back to class."

You push yourself up from the chair, put your hands in your pockets and don't bother to hide the jaw cracking yawn.

The coach gets your arm in a vice grip, pulls you down into a bow with her, and drags you out of the office.

Aida punches your shoulder, and you let yourself rock with it.

"Ow." You say.

She rolls her eyes. "It's almost lunchtime for your class. Let's go get you back to Kagami; I can't trust you to not make trouble on the way."

You let her steer you along placidly. "Is he my keeper now."

"Looks like!"

Wonder what Kagami will say to that.

* * *

"Why is Hana suddenly my problem?" Kagami's face scrunches up. He's still eating. "Shouldn't Kuroko be the one to keep an eye on her? Light and shadow, that whole shtick?"

Aida rolls her eyes. "Don't be dense, Kagami-kun. You know Kuroko would just add to the chaos."

"...Goddammit. You're right. Why is it always me that has to be the voice of reason? I didn't ask for this!"

You stare out the window, leave them to their conversation. Your eyelids are concrete blocks, and the classroom is an ocean. You sink fast, down and down and down. Light goes fuzzy, words come from the opposite side of a glass wall. You press your hands into the desk, but it's like touching with oven mitts, muffled.

How many hours of sleep have you gotten this week? Three? Four?

Maybe less.

For once you can't wait for the end of class, to find somewhere to sleep. When you crash, you crash hard. The dark waits underneath with grasping hands, dark claws catch at your shoulders and pull you down, until all you can do is stay.

All you want to do is stay.

And yet. Every time, you claw your way up.

You wake up. Exhausted. Beating heart. Stabbing light. Heavy hands. Alone.

Empty thoughts, except for one:  _Oh_.

_This again._

Sleeping... isn't  _safe_ , lately.

(Kise is safe.

Akashi is - was - safe.

The rest of the Miracles were occasionally alright to nap around for an hour or two. Midorima would glare at you the entire time - but he always waited for you to wake. Aomine would join you on the floor for his own nap. Murasakibara would stack snacks on your head, or doodle things on your arms, like the lunch menu for his favorite dessert shop.

Momoi - You don't know. You never feel tired around Momoi.)

You're so exhausted, sometimes you stare at the phone with dry eyes and try working up the will to pick it up. Call someone. Anyone.

You never do. For all of your talent, people are foreign and strange, and you don't want to deal with the inevitable repercussions. Doctors. Therapists. Trying to explain to people who want you to live how much you wish nothing loved you at all. How you want to reach into their brains, scoop out the memory of your life, and throw it away, skipping a pebble across a pond.

If there was a single, solitary chance at never existing, you would give everything you had for it.

You give in, because you always do. Sit down at the desk in front of Kagami - it's not your desk, but why the hell would you care? - cradle your head down in your arms.

You can feel a full on shutdown coming. The tournament is next week.

You can't afford it.

The dark swallows you.

The sigh you let out sounds like relief.

* * *

Crows call outside the window, but that's not what wakes you. It's the sensation of eyes on the back of your neck.

Slowly, you turn your head in your arms - and meet Kagami's eyes. He sits in the desk beside you, papers spread across it. Homework. Basketball magazines. Ignored in favor of staring at you like a creep.

You glance around the room. All the other students are long gone.

_Why is he still here?_

"I was going to go home, but - Did you know that I had to scare three groups of students away from wrecking your bag? All different." The desk creeks under his hands. "All of them were confused when I wouldn't just… let them. Like it was normal to harass you."

Yeah. That's why you don't sleep at school. Not where anyone can find you.

"...And you're not surprised."

You sit up, and like always, your body feels no ache from the awkward position it slept in. "Nope."

"Hana."

You look up.

_Oh._

Kagami's face is calm, but his red eyes are livid. Boiling.

"This shit… how long have you been dealing with it on your own?"

Silence hangs in the air. You blink.

_What?_

"How else was I supposed to deal with it?" You ask, honestly confused.

It was your problem. You have to solve it. You've been solving it, as long as you've been alive. It's just that you've had no energy to deal with them so far, so they've piled up like snow on a sidewalk.

He stands up from his desk and begins pacing. "I don't know, tell a teacher? Your parents? Your friends? Hell, tell the coach!"

You tilt your head. "Why?"

"W-why? Because shit like this isn't okay -"

"No," You say. "Why do you care? No one else ever has."

Kagami stops mid pace. Turns to look at you. "You're telling me," he says slowly. "That this has happened before?"

You feel like you're missing half this conversation. You don't like it. You give him a sarcastic smile. "Got it in one. Amazing." You look down and note the missing buttons on your uniform. Guess they already got you, before Kagami caught them. You shrug internally.

"Man, you're so messed up." Despite his words, Kagami sounds more resigned than anything.

He stands up, sweeps his papers into his bag, haulsit over his shoulder and looks at you. He makes a face. "You're just going to go back to sleep if I leave you here, aren't you?"

You yawn. "Signs point to yes."

"That's what I thought. Come on, get up, we're going to get something to eat."

Your brow wrinkles. That sounds like a lot of work.

Kagami doesn't give you a choice. He pulls you to your feet, grabs your bag and tows you out of the classroom like a child on a leash.

You look at his hand, engulfing your wrist.

It's bizarrely warm.

* * *

You find yourself sitting in the same booth at the same Maji Burger. Deja vu.

"Do you not know any other restaurants?" You poke at the burger in front of you with less enthusiasm than you go to basketball practice.

Kagami glares at you. "It's good!" He says around a mouthful of food.

"It's has the nutritional worth of cardboard."

...You might be a food snob. The thought of putting something this heavy in your mouth right before sleep makes your stomach roil.

That's normal, though. Even thinking about eating makes you exhausted most of the time. You live on convenience store snacks, rice balls, and whatever Kagami forces on you throughout the day. It's not that you're picky; it's that you can't even work up the energy to be hungry most of the time.

_Still._

You know good from bad, and Maji Burger is firmly on the side of bad.

Except for the vanilla milkshakes, anyway.

Speaking of, you raise your head and meet a pair of familiar ice blue eyes.

Kuroko stares at you and Kagami with no expression. Kagami hasn't notice him yet, too busy devouring his food. You're not even surprised that he's here. You just forgot.

If he wants you to leave, he'll be very disappointed. Your feet feel like concrete blocks taped to the end of your legs. Standing is more effort than you want to go through.

A small eternity passes before Kuroko's mouth goes firm, and he nods like he's made a decision.

Then he walks over and sits.

Next to you.

You look at him with narrowed eyes.

_What?_

You suddenly don't understand anything.

Kuroko is very obviously not paying attention to you. "Kagami-kun's appetite is impressive as ever."

"Shut up Kuroko - Kuroko?" Kagami nearly chokes on a burger. "Kuroko! When did you get here?"

"Kagami-kun sat down next to me." Kuroko says with a straight face.

Your tiny snort escapes before you can stop it.

Both of them look at you.

"Hana! You can see Kuroko, why didn't you warn me?"

"I thought you sat down on purpose." You say.

Kuroko's eyes widen minutely, like he doesn't expect you to play along, before he turns back to his milkshake. "Kagami-kun should pay more attention to his surroundings."

"Yeah, Kagami-kun." You say.

Kagami throws his hands up. "No. Quit that shit."

"I have no idea what Kagami-kun is talking about." You say, blank faced.

His horrified eyes flick between you and Kuroko. "Holy shit. It's contagious."

Kuroko sits by your side. It's midnight. You don't know if Kise will ever contact you again. You don't know if tomorow will be worse.

For now...

...You're okay.

* * *

**ayyy im here**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	13. XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SHIN-CHAN LOVE

You yawn, lean against the bus window and let it rattle you a bit more awake. It's been a week since the last full game, and that's not nearly long enough.

Two full games in one day.

Hopefully, you won't be playing. Right before the team left, Coach calls you over with a grim look on her face.

"I don't want to do this, but I think we should let you sit this next one out." She glances over her shoulder. "It's not that I don't trust your skills, but Kagami isn't quite up to par yet. I want to give him more experience with being the anchor of the team. Plus," She looks you in the eyes. "We're going to need you for the match after that. Shūtoku isn't a pushover and I need you to be at your best game for that."

You tilt your head. You don't get tired, except for mentally. This body just keeps going, no breaks required.

In the end, you shrug. "Alright."

Anything that gets you out of playing is alright by you.

Kagami elbows you in the side. "Don't yawn, you'll make me tired." And he splits into a yawn himself. His eyes are bloodshot again.

"Stayed up all night. Bakagami."

What an idiot.

"Shut up!"

"Kagami-kun's habits are... interesting." Kuroko sits on Kagami's other side. There's a book in his hands, but the twitching of his fingers gives away his mental state.

Kagami scowls. "I don't want to hear that from you! Like I can't tell when you stayed up all night."

"Whatever makes Kagami-kun feel better."

You close your eyes and let the chatter of the team wash over you, a sort of half doze. The bus ride lasts half an hour and you sleep for most of it. Pretend the life around you happens to someone else. The team struggles off the bus, with you, Kagami and Kuroko bringing up the tail. Coach waits for the three of you to catch up before she heads after the team. What, does she think that you're going to start a scene, just because you're the three newbies?

You pause. Look at Kagami, a red haired giant. Kuroko, a terrible influence and chronic instigator. And you.

...she might have a point.

The teams go to the same locker rooms, and it's like something broke in the teams brains the last match. They wait for Riko to leave, then start changing. You stand in the middle of the room, hands in your pockets eyes glancing over the bare skin, bored. You've already got your uniform on. It's not like you're going to be playing.

Midorima is here, right?

"I'm going." You say to Kagami.

Kagami, who's in the middle of pulling on his jersey, pauses still halfway through. "You're not starting?"

"Nope. It's all on you. And Kuroko, I guess."

Kuroko looks at you. "Mashiro-san."

The wealth of warrieness in his voice inspires a flicker of surprise. Why is he…?

_He thinks you're breaking your promise._

Running away.

Heat, a splash of molten rage breaks through the apathy for one heartbeat. The glance you give him is acid. "Argue with the coach if you want. It wasn't my choice."

Have you  _ever_ broken a promise?

Kuroko flinches back.

Than the apathy sets back in and you exhale. It's logical. You haven't exactly hidden your distaste for the game.

Still.

Is a little faith too much to ask?

The thing is: You are little more than a lie. This skin, this body, this skill - none of it belongs to you.

You may be a lie. You don't have to be a liar.

"If you two are going to have a conversation, do it out loud." Kagami steps between you, breaks the stare off. "Did… coach really decide that me and Kuroko are supposed to work together?"

You look away from Kuroko. "Yeah."

He looks at you, and his eyes are strangely clear. "Do you think we can do it?"

Your mouth pulls down. Why is he asking you? "Yes? Just lean on Kuroko. He's a veteran at the game by now."

Kagami runs a hand through his hair. "Okay. Okay, I can do this."

Whatever. You wave over your shoulder.

"Wait! You got your phone on you?"

You give Kagami a blank look. Worse than  _your actual mother._ "I'll be back."

"Yeah yeah. If you're late the coach will skin you!"

You wave over your shoulder and leave the room.

You don't look at Kuroko when you leave.

* * *

You wander for a while, let your feet do the thinking. The building big place but not Teikou big. Everywhere you go is filled with basketball players. A lot of sweaty, loud, stupid boys.

Of course, it's not like Midorima is hard to spot. You find him twenty minutes in. Tall, green haired, pissy expression, holding a glass sculpture of… an anime character? Wearing that god awful orange uniform. Yeah. That's him.

What a nerd.

You tuck your hands into your pockets. "Hey Shin-chan."

Midorima pushes his glasses up. "How many times have I told you not to call me that Takao -" His eyes land on you and go wide.

You raise an eyebrow. Takao, huh? "Miss the nickname, Shin-chan? I'm flattered."

His ears flush a dull red and his mouth shuts with a click.

"Akashi would be so proud." You muse.

"Shut up! Go die!" And there's the tsundere you know and almost like.

"Midorima this is not the time to be chatting up girls." One of his teammates broke into the conversation. He's tall and blonde, with a unpleasant frown on his face. He stares down at you and you meet his eyes without flinching.

Midorima bristles. "Captain Miyaji, she belongs to another school -"

The captain rolls his eyes. "Relax, freshman. I'm not going to discipline the member of another team."

You snort.

He glares at you again. "Unless she's really fucking annoying."

You give him a once over and shrug. You've fought worse. "I can take you."

Midorima whirls on you. "And you! Do not antagonize my team!"

You stare at him, blank face, then look over to his teammates. Ugly orange and all. Guess Midorima really has settled in. "Whatever, Shin-chan."

"Why are you even here? This is a basketball tournament, not a photo - " He looks over you and frowns. "...Where is your camera?"

For one second your neck becomes too light.

It's been three months since you picked up a camera. Your hands flex. Something like longing coats the inside of your throat.

Midorima's aim is good as ever.

You shrug, tap the words sewn into your shoulder. Seirin High. "I'm playing."

A ripple of noise comes from Midorima's team. You both ignore them. This is Miracle business.

Midorima stares. "...Kise said as much, but I thought it was merely his idiocy taking control of his mouth again."

It's your turn to blink. "You talked to Kise talked about me?"

"Of course." Midorima's mouth goes pinches and his words come out like they physically hurt him. "You and Akashi -"

"Eh? Who's the girl, Shin-chan?" A boy comes down the hallway, a bag slung over his shoulder. He's got black hair and a headband. He leans on Midorima and looks you over with sharp eyes.

"Takao, do not -"

Too late. You can feel the smile spread over your face. "Guess you really did miss the name, Shin-chan."

Takao blinks. His eyes dart from you, to Midorima, back to you again and you can't read him. The smile on his face takes on a slightly wicked quality. "Oh.  _Oh_. Is this your _girlfriend_ , Shin-chan? The one that model guy talked about?"

The whole team gasps behind him.

Midorima buries his face in his hands.

You blink.

"Midorima, you have a girlfriend, you bastard?" One of the older boys cries out.

"I do not!" Midorima snaps.

Huh. The senpai mercilessly rib Midorima - who actually responds, beyond a cold stare and dismissive snort.

You cross your arms. Maybe he has grown up a little.

Takao watches the chaos with his hands behind his head and a sly grin on his face. It doesn't reach his eyes. You watch Takao watch Midorima.

_Hmm._

"Seriously? How the fuck would Midorima get a girlfriend?" Someone asks.

You tilt your head. "Shin-chan is very good with his hands."

Beautiful silence. Takao chokes. The looks on their faces almost gives you the energy to lift the corners of your mouth.

A taped hand covers your mouth before you get a word out, and you look up. Consider biting.

Midorima is bright red and getting close to purple. "I - You - "He gives up with a strangled noise. "Hana. _Do. Not._ "

What a prude.

Instead of biting, you lean all of your weight on him, because walking is just too much trouble sometimes.

Midorima holds you up without any apparent effort. Boys got biceps for days. He uses his other hand to push up his glasses again. "Captain, I must speak to my... acquaintance."

The captain pinched the bridge of his nose. "We have a game in ten minutes and you want to go feel up your girlfriend?"

Without looking, you know Midorima bristles. "I'm _not_  - never mind. It's useless talking to you imbeciles. Consider it one of my requests."

The captain waves the two of you off. "Fine. You have five minutes, and if you're not back by then, I'm coming to find you." And you won't like it, the undertone of his voice says.

You blink slowly, once. They really think you're going out with Midorima.

_Weird._

You give the team a half salute. Midorima snorts and pulls you away, mouth still covered. Takao takes half a step forward after you. His eyes don't leave the hand on your mouth.

He's got it, bad. Go Shin-chan. You kinda wish Akashi was here, just for the havoc potential. Then the door shuts behind you, cutting Shūtoku off from your sight.

Not a second later, a wave of pure noise bursts, chasing your heels like a dog.

Midorima cringes and speeds up.

A bubble of something almost amused rises in you and the corners of your lips lift.

Yeah. Midorima is always fun.

You let Midorima drag you to unused side room, let you go, and shut the door. He'd never do anything as undignified as lean against the door in exhaustion, but it's obvious he wants to.

You pull his hands off your mouth. "A private area too have your way with me? How dastardly, Shin-chan."

" _Die_." Midromia says.

The room is clean, if a little dark. One of the two strip lights on the ceiling is out, and the other flickers gently every so often. Midorima's sneakers squeak on the clean tile floor. He turns to face you.

The quiet in the room stretches. You watch him straighten his already impeccable uniform and touch the glass anime character. He looks at you and opens his mouth - and then shuts it with a snap.

You wait.

Finally his mouth pinches like a housewife who found a rat in her pantry. "Normally, I am not one to pry into the affairs of my acquaintances," He says, like he and Kise and Aomine didn't have their little gossip parties. "But. It has come to my attention that you have - that is, you and Akashi may have -"

"Small words Shin-chan." You say.

He glares. "Shut up. What exactly happened between you and Akashi?"

Akashi?

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just answer the question."

You shrug. "I dumped him."

Midorima staggers to the wall like your words have physical weight. "...dumped him.." His voice is weak. "...those poor students. Is the school even standing by now… is it too late for them?"

You tilt your head and watch him mutter to himself, mildly entertained.

"Okay. This can still be salvaged." He crosses the room and grabs you by the shoulders and stares you in the eyes. "Tell me exactly what happened, and I'll try to do damage control. Maybe some of the Rakuzan students can still be saved."

"You make it sound like he's going kill them."

"Perhaps the old Akashi would not. With the way he is now…" Midorima sighs and his exhaustion is visible. "He's not the same."

You look out the window into the blue sky. Think of red and gold and walking away. The loss of an easy smile on a boy you almost liked.

_Kuroko's eyes, unforgiving. The accusation in them._

_You could have stopped this._

"Yeah." You say, to Midorima and to the past. "You're right."

Regret is the reflection of the moon in water. You reach for it, but you can't pick it up. Can't feel it.

Still selfish, still detached. It's all you have, in the end.

Out of the corner of your eye

The ringing goes on for a few more moments.

You look at Midorima. He gives you annoyed glance. "Well?"

Seeing your blank face, he sighs like you're giving him a migraine. "Hana. Answer your phone."

It still takes a moment to sink in. Tilt your head and listen.

Yup. That is sure coming from your pocket. It probably says something that you forgot your own ringtone. You don't get calls. Slowly, you reach into your pocket and pull out the phone. The screen is lit up.

It's not Kise.

Something bitter rises up in your throat and you can't help the mocking smile that crosses your face.

_Disappointment._

How hypocritical.

The bitterness eats through the dam holding your apathy back, because its like something inside you breaks and you go under. Pull back from the world. A thick curtain falls between you and it, and your emotions leave your mouth like a last breath.

"Ah." You say, quiet. You never notice you have emotions until they leave. How familiar.

"Are you going to let it ring forever?" Midorima's snappish voice breaks your thoughts.

Face blank, you click answer.

"HANA WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU - "

You pull it away from your ear just as fast, but you can still hear Coach yelling from the length of your arm. You wait until the noise stops. Then you bring it back to your ear.

"Are you done?" You ask.

Aida growls. "Get your ass back here! Teams aren't supposed to be wandering around! Plus," her voice goes quiet. "I think we might need you."

That was quick. "Understood."

"Good. Hurry up."

_Click._

You turn off the phone, stare at the far wall for a moment.

How did she know your phone number?

You sigh. A question for later. For now, you had a game to attend.

_Joy._

Midorima raises an eyebrow. "Your team."

"Yeah. Duty calls."

He checks his own phone. "I too have been summoned back. Next time you will tell me what happened, Hana. I can't perform damage control on Rakuzan without knowing the full story."

You roll your eyes. "Akashi's a big kid. You don't have to clean up after him, you tsundere."

"I am  _not_  a tsundere - I don't know why I bother. You never listen." Abruptly he points at you with his phone. "Give me your number."

You tilt your head and look at him through your eyelashes. "How forward, Shin-chan."

He gives you a look. Midorima never does anything by halves. His normal tsundereness falls away like it never existed. Shame? What a joke. "Don't be obtuse, Hana. Stupidity doesn't work as well on you as it does on Kise."

Kise talks about you.

A hiccup in your apathy. The feeling sits heavy in your stomach.

You pull out your phone and hand it to him; he registers your number with efficiency.

"There. You will be telling me what happened exactly." He says when he hands the phone back.

With that he turns and opens the door.

"Hey." You say, on a whim. "Give me Takao's number."

And Midorima trips over his own feet.

_Huh._

He whirls on you, eyes narrow. "You want.  _What_."

You shrug. "He's cute and I'm single. Why the hell not, you know?"

"My teammate is not - not some sort of distraction, and I will not paint a target on his back for your amusement!" You can almost see Midorima's green hair bristling. "Any boyfriend of yours will be subject to both Kise and Akashi's scrutiny. Absolutely not. I need him for the game - No. I refuse." He points at you. "Do not flirt with Takao. Or anyone on my team, for that matter!"

With that he storms to the door, throws it open, and stalks off without looking back.

"You 'need him', huh?" You ask the closed door.

_Godspeed, Takao._

* * *

Back at the bench, you look at Kagami's head, hanging low. Looks like Kuroko is taking care of things out on the court. You came back for nothing.

"Dumbass." You slouch down next to Kagami. "Who gets tricked into fouling four times in a row?"

He shoves you and you rock with the motion. "Like you could do any better."

You shrug. If you were going to get fouled anyway, might as well do as much damage as possible. You look at the other team.

A few broken bones never killed anyone.

You keep your mouth shut.

Coach would probably disagree.

Kuroko absolutely would, but he already hates you - no loss there.

"I don't like the look on your face," Kagami says, scooting a little bit away from you. "You're thinking something evil, aren't you?"

"Who, me."

"...That tone is not convincing, just so you know. Hana, do  _not_  maim the other team."

You sigh. "Not even a little bit?"

"No! Shit, where's Kuroko - oh right. The game. Why is he always busy when you're being homicidal?"

"He's got survival instincts."

"What, and I don't?"

You look at the space that magically cleared around you the moment you sat down - though it's smaller than you're used to - then back at Kagami and raise your eyebrow.

Kagami scowls back. "Shut up and watch the game."

You shrug and do so.

He seriously reminds you of Aomine most days, but slightly - more vicious. More feral. Maybe that's why he gets along with Kuroko so well. Maybe that's why he's not scared of you.

Kuroko is harder to see on the court, from the sidelines. He puts his whole focus into disappearing, to the point where even you have to concentrate to see his actions. After three weeks of playing, it's odd to watch him from further away.

You lean forward. See him slip around another of the opponents defenders. His skill is no joke, and hard won. Kuroko's hate isn't abnormal, but you understand it more than others.

If he had your talent, what would he have done with it?

_Anything._

Instead of your nothing at all.

You look away from the teams. The world is unfair and you're not going to feel sorry for anyone. Instead you look at the coach. "How did you have my number?"

She doesn't look away from the game, biting her thumb. "I didn't. I was using Kuroko's phone."

That answers nothing. You... never gave Kuroko your number. Why would you want to talk to him more than you have to?

The game drags on.

The coach sits on the edge of her seat the entire time, leaping to her feet with a cheer at the end of the game in Serin's victory. The teams bow to each other and seperate to head to their locker rooms.

You tilt your head. "Was it really that close?" You ask the captain.

Hyuuga blinks. "Did you not see us almost lose?"

You frown. They were sort of ... slow, weren't they?

Kuroko stepps to Hyuuga's side, a towel around his neck. "Mashiro-san is used to the miracles. They are quite good for this age."

You glance at the court behind you. If this is considered good, you dodged a bullet. They're dull.  _Slow_. The martial arts angle is a little interesting but...

_Boring._

You shrug, dismiss them from your mind. At least the next game is against Midorima. That might be at least a little interesting.

A heavy gaze on the back of your head. You turn and meet Kuroko's eyes.

 _Cold_.

"Sometimes," Kuroko says, quiet. "I think Mashiro-san is far too much like Aomine-kun."

_The only one who can beat me is me._

It's not a compliment.

You shrug, but your shoulders feel stiff. "You're not wrong."

Kuroko exhales and the anger visibly drains his face. His hands uncurl from fists. "But then I know that you're not. You work hard. When you want to."

The declaration settles over the room and you pause. Stare at him.

"...I don't know how to react to that." You finally say, for lack of anything better.

His fliker of amusement is strange.

You... did that. You made Kuroko smile.

"No." Kuroko says. "I don't suppose you do."

You look down at the uniform that Kuroko shares. With and red, matching yours. If feels like you're standing on something dark and unstable. Who knows when it'll collapse under your feet?

Your eyes land on the back band around your wrist. Kuroko's sweatband.

A truce.

And the world settles down into lines that make sense again. Kuroko isn't one to break his word. Maybe this is his way of trying.

You look to Kuroko and raise an eyebrow. "By the way, how did you even get my cell number?"

He's blank faced as always, mouth a straight line. "Momoi-san gave it to me."

_...Momoi?_

The obvious question withers on your tongue before you can get it out.

It's Momoi. Finding out someone's phone number is child's play. Even Akashi acknowledged her information gathering skills.

The question isn't how she got the number.

The question is  _why_.

As in, why bother?

You were rude. Prickly. Incapable of sympathy. You didn't go out of your way to talk to her, nothing like her giggling group of friends.

You look at Kuroko. "Why would she..."

He looks as confused as you feel. "Momoi-san takes very good care of her friends."

Friends?

"But we're not?" The words escape before you can catch them.

He pauses. "Not what?"

You can't stop the uncomfortable, almost plaintive tone to your voice. It feels like something electrical is crawling just under your skin. "Friends. We're not really friends."

You and Kuroko. You and the Miracles. You and Momoi.

He actually turns to look you in the eyes. "Please do not say that to Momoi-san. She may cry and I will not help you with the fall out. Besides, it was Mashiro-san herself who said she may call you by name."

You rub the back of your neck. "Everyone calls me by name."

" _I_  do not."

You give him the look that deserves. "That's because you despise me, Kuroko."

He opened his mouth - and closed it. A small frown crossed his face. "I... would not call it something as strong as that."

You snort. "Whatever. Back to my point. Why would Momoi want to keep an eye on me?

You're not Aomine, or Kuroko -

And reality breaks through.

_Kuroko._

Obviously Momoi keeps track of her crush, not to mention the people around him. Momoi would scope out potential rivals, not matter how slim a chance it is. That's just how she is.

Despite all that, a flicker of something - something like a candle flame, warm and bright, lights inside your chest. It's nice that... even after you stop interacting with the Miracles, Momoi cares enough to - keep an eye on you.

Even if it's just because of Kuroko.

"Mashiro-san." Kuroko's voice breaks through your thoughts, and you look at him.

He's standing by the door, arms stiff by his sides. "I wished … I wished to apologize for my behavior earlier. I understand that you take your promises very seriously. I didn't mean to belittle that."

You stare at him.

He looks down at the band around his wrist. His mouth goes firm. He looks up at you. "I will try to do better in the future."

"...Okay." You say, for lack of anything better. That seems to be happening lately.

He nods once, and steps out of the door. "I will be waiting on the court."

You're left in an empty locker room, alone.

What the fuck was that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> midorima is such a nerd omg
> 
> also kuroko dont fuck around with his promises
> 
> momoi status: soon


	14. XIV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry in advance

"Midorima's girlfriend is... a player?" Takao points at you, eyes wide.

You look down at your uniform. That sure is a jersey. You look at Midorima with eyes full of pity. What a shame that he was stuck with stupid teammates.

"Girlfriend?" Huyuuga says, voice incredulous. Everyone ignores him.

Midorima pinches the bridge of his nose. "Obviously. Idiot."

"Boo, Shin-chan. How was I supposed to know that?" Takao pouts. "I've never seen a girl play in the boy's league."

You catch Kuroko's blink out of the corner of your eyes. He looks at you and tilts his head a Takao, who's hanging off Midorima. Midorima, who's letting him.

You shrug. You didn't give Takao the nickname.

"Is everyone going to ask that?" Kagami cracks his neck. "It's getting old. Like Seirin gives out jerseys to anyone."

"Not everyone is accepting as Kagami-kun." Kuroko notes. "They do not understand."

You shrug. "Yet."

Kuroko's lips turn up slightly. "Yet."

Kagami rolls his eyes at you. "Don't act like it has nothing to do with you when it's literally all about you."

"Of course she's a player." Midorima snaps. "Did you think that Hana would really take care of anyone? Also, she isn't my girlfriend!"

"It's kind of hard to take that seriously when you call her by her first name, Shin-can." Takao says, a smirk on his face.

The other team continues to tease Midorima, missing the way Seirin freezes as one; then turns to look at you.

"Something to share with the class, Hana?" Hyuuga says with a menacing glint to his glasses.

You look over to the impatient reff. "Oh look, it's time to play basketball."

"Don't change the subject, freshman!"

The whistle saves you from having to say anything else. The ref cuts short the chatter and the teams line up, with Kagami on your side to catch the toss up.

Still, a heavy pair of eyes remains on you.

You glance at Kuroko. What's his deal?

"I can't believe you'd be so callous to your boyfriend, Mashiro-san." He says, utterly flat. "I am disappointed in you."

His voice is low, but the whole gym hears it - and you can tell by the way Midorima splutters on the other end of the court. " _Kuroko_  -"

You look at Kuroko, face deadpan. Then you turn to Midorima and blow him a kiss, face still blank.

He goes beat red.

You look back at Kuroko. "Better?"

"Much." He says, and even you can see the spark of mischief in his eyes.

Whatever else he says is cut off by the toss up of the ball. All of the mirth drains out of him, replaced by the burning of intensity.

Kagami jumps, leaves the ground so far behind it's a wonder he ever comes back down.

The ball is in motion.

The game begins.

* * *

You know from the first exchange that you're better than Midorima's team. It's not that they're bad - in fact they're leagues better than the team before, and it's not - they're not terrible, not really. But you're still not being challenged. Takao knocks the ball out of Kuroko's hand and the rest of the team gasps. Midorima makes point after point, machine precision. You... coast. Match yourself to Seirin's pace, even if it feels like moving through deep water.

At least Kagami looks like he's having fun.

Half time comes and again, the rest of the team is a sweaty mess and you're just... fine. Physically, you're at one hundred percent. No effort required.

Aida notices it too. She stares hard at you, and you can almost see the numbers running in her head. "Hana, how many matches do you think you could play in a row?"

Hyuuga looks over, towel around his neck.

You look up from where you're sitting by the wall, hands behind your head. "I don't know." You say, with a shrug. "A few."

"Seriously?" Hyuuga says.

Aida adds up the numbers in her head - and instead of the half-afraid look you expect, you know is coming, her mouth curved in a smile. "Perfect. I want you to cover Takao."

You blink. "Not Midorima?"

She waves her hands. "The best way to shut down a shooter is to simply - not give them the ball. Kagami and Kuroko can handle the rest."

Huh. You shrug. "Kay."

A large, sweaty came down on your head. "Nevermind your evil scheming. Are you really dating that prick in the glasses?" Kagami slumped down next to you and looked over to Shukoto. "He's carrying around like... an anime girl thing."

Itsuki cranes his head. "What, really?"

"Yeah. It's giving me the creeps. I can feel it's soulless eyes following me all over the court. Is that normal in Japan?"

"Nope." You say. Midorima is just fucking weird.

"It is Midorima-kun's lucky item for today." Kuroko says, sitting down - not on Kagami's side, like you expected, but next to you. Like it's natural. He offers you and Kagami a water.

You stare at him. "...Is it poisoned."

Kagami scoffs, takes both of them and throws one at you. "Don't be a dramatic dick. Also, what the hell is a lucky item?"

You catch it and look at Kuoko again. "Thanks. I guess."

You have no idea what's going on anymore. Was this covered by the truce? It's like Kuroko's trying to be - nice, when you only expected civility. You're wary.

Kuroko ignores your stare, instead explaing the concept of a lucky item to Kagami, who's eyebrows go higher and higher.

"That's fucking stupid." Kagami says. "Luck isn't a thing."

You think about the talent you did nothing to earn, the way you crush people with years of experience under your heels. How you exist. You say nothing.

Kuroko blinks, face placid. "Be that as it may, I have never see him miss."

"What, never?" The three of you look over when the vice-captain of the team sits next to Kagami, towel around his neck. "That's… scary."

"Indeed." Kuroko says. "Midorima-kun has always been the most focused of the Miracles. With Takao-san's assitance, he is even more formidable player."

You lean back against the bench and look up at the ceiling, one hand loosely holding the drink. "Mm." You say, not really listening.

"This Takao guy, he's like Hana?" Kagami wipes his forehead with his jersey. "He can see Kuroko?"

You spin the black sweatband around your wrist. "No. Nothing like me."

Kuroko blinks. "What do you mean?"

"Takao's got hawk's eyes. It's natural talent for him." You shrug. "I have to do it actively. If I stop paying attention, I don't see him."

"Huh." Kagami said. "How?"

"I would like to know as well." Kuroko says. "If there is some sort of flaw that you can use, then others may be able to exploit it."

You hold up the thumb and forefingers on each hand and make a square, then center it on Kuroko. "You think I don't know how to guide the eye? A little misdirection is nothing."

Kuroko blinks. "Ah. I did not think about that."

You lower your hands and tuck them into your pockets. You've had years of practice observing your surroundings before you met Kuroko; always looking for that perfect shot, that one moment worth capturing.

You still do it, even now. On some level, you're  _always_  paying attention.

"Wait, what?" Kagami puts a hand down on both yours and Kuroko's shoulders. "Care to share with the rest of us, who don't have any connection to your tragic backstory?"

You roll your eyes. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

A part of you regrets even bringing it up. The cool plastic of the camera under you hands. The click of the shutter. The breathless moment before you get a glimpse of what you captured on film. A clear lens between you and the rest of the world. A way of making sense of the people in it.

Your fingers twitch.

Kuroko adjusts his wristbands. "Yes. It is enough to say that no one else may do what Mashiro-san can."

"Tch. Cryptic bastards. Whatever. I still can't imagine you dating anyone." Kagami says. "You're just... Hana. Who'd be willing to date you?"

"Rude." You say. "I happen to have two ex-boyfriends." Fake ones, but still. You're talented, rich, and pretty good looking. Minus your personality, you're a catch.

You time it for when Kagami takes another drink, and you're rewarded when Kagami chokes and sputters water everywhere. "What? You - you found  _two_  people -" He looks at Kuroko.

"It's true." Kuoko says, peeling the label of his pocari. "Kise-kun and Mashiro-san dated for years."

Izuki blinks. "The -the model? Kise Ryouta of the generation of miracles? The super handsome, suave person who was voted number one person a girl wants to date in Jordan Magazine? That Kise?"

All three of you pause to stare at him. Jordan is a prominent girls magazine. You and Kise have both done work for them before.

"How do you know that?" Kagami asks.

"I like the articles," Itsuki lies. Poorly.

"Yes, Itsuki-sempai. That Kise." Kuroko says, voice deadpan.

This time it's your turn to be stared at.

"Wait, who's the second one?" Kagami asks.

Kuroko's mouth goes tight.

You roll the water in your hands, ignore the way they stare. Akashi... sometimes you miss him. The two of you didn't agree about... a lot of things, but it didn't stop you from being comfortable around him. With Akashi you could let him lead. Let him make the decisions. He took charge like he breathed.

It wasn't a surprise in the end, that he made the decision for your to go to Rakuzan with him. You had so little energy in the end that having someone else to make the day to day decisions for you was easy.

But that's all it is.

He used you for a shield. You used him as a rudder.

"No one important," You say, finally. It's over and done with.

Beside you, Kuroko is still.

You wonder: what is it like to want to save someone?

"...and that's not ominous at all. Is this more Miracle bullshit?" Kagami rubbed his eyes. "It's never ending with you people."

Kuroko blinks, and shifts. "Kagami-kun is so astute."

"Shut it. There's always something new and depressing from you Teikou bastards."

"You love us." You hop to your feet. After a moment of hesitation, you offer Kuroko a hand.

If he's trying, you will too. As long as you're here.

His eyes go wide for a split second. The moment stretches until you're half expecting it to break and cut you, like a rubber band pulled to tight.

His eyes flicker. He sighs and takes your hand.

Kuroko's hands are calloused, and the fact surprises you for some reason. Whenever you look at him, it's like looking at a painting. A photograph of something already faded. Insubstantial.

In that moment you can feel something slot into place in your head.

Kuroko is real.

You pull him up, and there's weight to him. He breathes. He thinks. He… exists.

You let go of his hand like it's burning and you look across the court, up into the beachers, so he can't see your face. The way your eyes have gone wide. Unsure.

A flash of pink out of the corner of your eye.

Your head whips around before you can register it, eyes scan the bleachers, sifting through the crowd like looking for a jewel in the desert.

Nothing.

You look again, eyes narrowed, because you know that shade of pink. You'd never mistake it for anything else.

Why is Momoi here?

"Hana? Whatcha looking at?" Kagami throws his arm over your shoulder and tows you to the court. "Half times over. "

With one last glance over your shoulder, you let him pull you back to the game.

* * *

_Kuroko is real._

_Momoi is here._

The two thoughts circle each other in your head like a snake eating its own tail. You ignore the

Kuroko is real, the way Kise is real, the way Akashi almost was.

That means... you have to expend that little bit of yourself and care what he thinks.

The whistle blows and you cast the referee and annoyed glance. The man flinches back. Can't he see that you're trying to think?

If Momoi is here, why wouldn't she say anything? She's not  _shy_.

Shutouku gets the ball in the toss up this time, just barely outstripping Kagami and the game begins. You follow along with the game, but your mind is miles away.

You move without thinking.

...Should you look for her, after the game?

_Inhale_.

You duck under Miyaji's guard, breeze past the captain with a spin and take the ball out of Takako's hands.

Dribble once. No exits. The basket is behind you. Someone on your team shouts, but you're too deep in thought to hear them. All voices sound like static in your ears.

Why would she be here?

You fake driving down the middle, then toss the ball, freehand it without looking.

_Exhale_.

_Swish._

Why are you having such a hard time deciding?

You scratch the back of your neck. You'll look. If she doesn't want to see you, she can say so to your face.

Mind made up you nod to yourself, and turn around - to find a deadly hush settled over the gym. Both teams stare at you with wide eyes. The referee still has the whistle pressed to his lips.

You look over your shoulder, to the basketball hoop on the opposite end of the court.

_Ah._

A sigh escapes before you can stop it. The shot wasn't even that hard - your attention was gone and you forgot the level your team is playing at. The body you're stuck in at work again.

Midorima looks from you to the basket. "You... just how much are you holding back?" Midorima demands, and his eyes burn. Like he's looking at Akashi.

You look at him and feel yourself go blank, empty out like a water spilling from a palm. It's not surprise. You just... forgot.

How can you not hold back, not out of concern, but because you…you don't want to be relied on. Put yourself on their level, or a bit above, and let that be the end of it. One moment of carelessness, and the both teams stare at you like you're a monster.

It's only basketball - but that's what Midorima and Seirin care about.

You don't look at Seirin, but you don't need to. Midorima's not an idiot because he turns an eye to them too. He snorts. "Someone like you at some no name school? It's a waste of your potential."

"Oi! Quit being a dick," Kagami growls, but you can see the way he's looking at you from the corner of his eyes. An assessing look that seems strange and out of place.

Your shoulders are tense and you don't say anything.

Potential?

Like you  _care_.

"Hana -" Hyuuga falters for the first time you've known him. The rest of the team is quiet.

You look and Kuroko's eyes are ice.

It cuts, in the second before numbness sets in.

_It was nice while it lasted._

You look back to the basketball, rolling forgotten on the other end of the court and know that the eyes of the entire room are on you again, and not a single one of them friendly.

Everyone wants  _something_.

Expression slides off your face like something liquid. You pass the other team, feet steady. Take the ball. Pass it to the ref. "Are we playing or not?" You ask.

The man blinks and fumbles for his whistle. "P-point Seirin!"

The teams retreat to their sides but your feet are concrete blocks. You stay where you are, rather than turn around and go back to the team. You don't know what their reaction will be. Rage, for not going all out from the beginning? Betrayl? Fear?

You don't want to find out.

Footsteps behind you. A long shadow over you. Midorima adjusts his glasses, Takao behind him. "I don't know why you're holding back, and I don't  _care_. You will play seriously."

You half glance over your shoulder. Turn back to the open court between you and the hoop, the empty feeling in you throat. "Nah."

Midorima looms over you, like height makes a difference. You faced off with Murasakibara regularly. "Do _not_  insult me like this. Play seriously or - "

"Or what? You'll tell Akashi on me? Not everything is about you, Shin-chan." You step into his shadow, stare him in the eyes. "You want my best? Make me."

Takao looks at you, and his face is amazed. "Holy shit, that's cold."

A moment pases.

Midorima adjusts his glasses, his eyes sharp. "Very well. I shall."

* * *

The game starts again, and you wish you were surprised when Midorima's team surrounds you like bodyguards around the prime minister the second your hand touches the ball. You feel like you're being surrounded by a forest of sweaty, smelly boys. You barely come up to shoulder of the shortest one. All you can see is that awful orange of their uniform.

"Nothing personal." Takao lies cheerfully.

"Guess you forgot about the rest of my team." You muse.

Takao's eyes go wide and he spins around - perfect.

You toss the ball up, so high up that it nearly brushes the ceiling, and their eyes follow the ball, like they always do. You don't need to look up - so you duck out of the center - move under the arms, into the open.

When they look back down, you're already gone. Like you said to Kuroko - you know how to lead the eye.

You move back a few steps, not looking up and hold out one hand.

The ball thumps into it. The  _looks_  they give you.

You sigh.

_Dull._

* * *

It doesn't get better. Shutoku tries, puts their all into it - but they lost to Kagami in the manga.

With you there, it's an obvious conclusion. Midorima is good but if he can't get the ball - he can't shoot.

You… don't let him have the ball. He touches it once more, makes a shot, but it's too little, too late.

You look at the scoreboard.

(91 vs 112).

You line up. Shukutoku on one side. Seirin on the other.

Midorima stands opposite you.

It's quiet in the court. The crowd drains out, along with Seirin. You stay behind.

So does Midorima, and Takao hovering behind him.

"Good game, Shin-chan." You say.

Midorima - flinches and Takao glares at you. "Don't - don't call him that, like you're friends or something. Don't act like this game has nothing to do with you. You... did you even try?"

Midorima freezes, looks at Takao with wide eyes - but he doesn't tell him to stop. Midorima turns to you.

"No." You say, to him alone. The truth comes easy to you, sits on your tongue like acid. "Not really."

"You're kidding me." Takao laughs, but not like it's funny. "Oh man. Are you even  _human_?"

The question sits heavy in your throat, like a swallowing a stone and having it get stuck in your throat. The look on Midorima's face is awful. All you feel is tired. Tired of breathing, tired of being awake, tired of being the villain in this narrative.

_I didn't ask for this._ You think about saying it. Don't.

It's pointless. No one ever listens.

"Would it kill you to at least be happy you won?" Takao asks.

Your shrug is the barest movement of your shoulders. Basketball is pointless. A way to kill time. It isn't fun. It just… is.

Midorima adjusts his glasses. Rubs his eyes. "Takao, enough. She's always been this way." His smile is bitter. "You and Akashi really are perfect for each other. Effortless, overwhelming victory. I just never knew how much. How fitting."

How unfair.

"You... didn't even try." Midorima says, almost to himself. His eyes still stare past your shoulder, toward the hoop. "You never once had put in effort. Not in Teikou. Not now. Not for anything. I did everything I could." He looks down at the glass sculpture. "It still wasn't enough."

You hear those words like he's down a long tunnel, or you stand behind a glass wall. Distant. Nothing he says reaches inside you. You're empty, you are bloodless as a stone, you are gone. No pity.

Midorima looks and you and his smile is so bitter. "I've lost."

Your lungs feel heavy. "Ah."

"That's all you have to say?"

You look at him. "I don't know what you want to hear."

How long has he practiced? How much blood has he shed over it?

You understand. You  _know._

Winning, losing, teams, people. You don't care. Basketball might as well be a word on the wind to you.

His face crumples. "It's not  _fair_."

You look at Midorima. Than away to the team, pretending not to listen behind him, everyone of them ready to step in for him, no matter how annoying he is. You can feel their stares in the back of your throat.

Midorima already found his place.

"The world's not fair," Your voice sounds cold even to you, like a piece of your dreams broke off to live in your mouth.

_"Don't call him that." Anger honed to a cutting edge._

Fine.

It's not like the two of your were really friends in the first place. Can't lose what you never had. The thought is quiet, tinged with exhaustion. Your eyes feel like weighted stones.

"Later, Midorima." You turn, and pause. Seirin stares at you, changed out of their jerseys. Kagami's mouth is twisted into a scowl.

You meet Kuroko's wide eyes. Think about hating him. Think about screaming. Think about feeling.

Instead, you let your eyes slide off him for the first time you've met him. He vanishes from your sight like mist in the sun.

Kagami takes a step forward. "Hana- "

"Coach." You say, because you're not interested in getting a lecture about sportsmanship or the power of friendship. You're fucking  _sick_  of basketball. "I'm going home. I'll be back tomorrow."

If she says anything to that you don't hear it. You brush past them and out into the city streets before anyone can talk to you. Violince crawls up your spine until your teeth ache with it.

You head for the seedier part of town.

You need to let off some steam.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> technically momoi was in this chapter? (ducks back behind cover)
> 
> up next: Midorima pov


	15. XV.Green

Midorima's eyes itch behind his glasses, to the point that he feels like being sandblasted. His head aches. Every time he blinks, he sees Hana's expression slide off her face like a house of cards being snatched by the wind.

Midorima rubs his chest. Perhaps he exerted himself to much; his chest throbbed with a strange ache. The memory of black and white numbers climbing, climbing. A sheer cliff Midorima scrambled up with his fingernails, but every point he stole, Seirin effortlessly pulled back.

Ostubou and Miyaji are quietly conversing near the front of the bus, waiting to take them back to Shutoku. The coach has his arms crossed across from them, nodding his head.

Midorima can't see their faces from here. The familiar sensation of wordlessness comes over him. He wants to say something - but when he opens his mouth, all that escapes is breath. He looks down at his taped hands, mouth pursed.

He lost. That's all there is too it.

None of his team talked to him after the match. The low, anxious voice in the back of his head spins his mind in circles, each as unpleasant as the last - they hate him for knowing Hana, they blame him for the defeat, he's a Miracle - why isn't he better?

His hands clench without his consent.

Outsubo and Miyaji bow to the coach and walk back to the team. "Double practice for everyone for the next two weeks. Our showing was  _abysmal_. Takao," Outsubo says from behind them. "You're walking home. And triple practice tomorrow."

Takao looks up from his feet with wide eyes. "What?  _Why_?"

Ostubo's face is stearner than Midorima's ever seen it. "You really have to ask? I only caught the last half your conversation with Mashiro, but you were  _out of line_." He leans forward. "You're lucky you're still a starter. Shutoku is one of the kings of basketball. Our players have to reflect that."

"But she -"

"Was better." He says. His voice cuts through team. "That's all there is to it. She never went all out, and I know you feel insulted. All of you. I know you agree with Takao." He looks over the team, meeting everyone's' eyes. "But  _why_? Basketball is a game with a winner and a loser. We lost. That's on us. _"_

Takao flinches back and Midorima's stomach feels hollow. He can't hold Ostubo's gaze, can't figure out what to do with his hands.

Miyaji breaks the grimm quiet with a sigh. "We relied too much on Midorima."

THe miracle can't hold back his flinch.

Than Miyaji continues. "There's no way he could handle both Kagami, Mashiro, and that Kuroko guy on his own. The rest of us were complacent. Midorima is important to the team, but he needs a proper guard. We need to step it up."

_What?_

Confusion is not something he enjoys feeling. Midorima's hands are tight around his bag. "I was inadequate." He says. "I will do better next time."

The team looks at him, and Midorima stares back. Spine straight. He will not make excuses for himself.

Miyaji rolls his eyes and Otsubo reaches up and scuffs up Midorima's hair.

"This is a team, Midorima. We lose together. We win together." The captain says. "You don't have to apologize. You only have to do your best."

Midorima blinks rapidly, trying to get the sting out of his eyes. "Yes, Captain."

"Seriously, freshmen." Miyaji says with disgust.

Otsubo waves his hand. "Get your gear and start loading up the bus."

Midorima looks down. His throat feels oddly tight, and his eyes are still burning. Otsubo's eyes overlaid with Nijimura. Better days, when the miracles were more than a group. They were a  _team_.

But that's in the past.

Beside him, Takao is oddly quiet. He's staring out the glass window, mouth set in a severe frown. His normally cheerful eyes are dark. Midorima looks out the same window, but whatever Takao sees is invisible to him. Midorima has no Hawk's eyes to rely on.

The silence presses down on Midorima. He blinks and sees Hana's face. Clutches his lucky item.

"You know," Takao says finally. "I don't much like your girlfriend, Shin-chan."

Shitarou can't quite hid the flinch that name gets.

_"Later, Midorima."_  
  
"Hana isn't my girlfriend." He says on automatic.

That seems to break through to Takao, who gives his a wry smile. "I figured. I'll see you back at school. Looks like I got a ways to go."

Midorima shifts on his feet. "I… will ask the coach to reconsider. It's far to harsh in this weather -"

Takao laughs, but there's a note that sets Midorima's teeth on edge - not mocking, but a little - self-deprecating. "Shin-chan is such a tsundere." He scratches the back of his neck. "I'm still… angry at her, but I promised myself I wasn't going to do this again."

"Do what?"

Takao meets Midorima's gaze. "Judge. Like I did with you." He smiles again. "Looks like I owe her an apology the next time I see her."

" _See you later, Midorima."_

Takao isn't the only one, Midorima thinks. "I will come with you." He blurts out.

Takao blinks. "But -"

Midorima straightens up and adjusts his glasses. "You were not the only one at fault in that conversation. I was too slow to say anything. It's only right that I share the punishment."

Takao stares long enough for Midorima's nerves to falter. Finally he shakes his head with a crooked smile. "Man, I'm in so much trouble."

"I beg your pardon?" Midorima asks.

"Don't worry about it, Shin-chan. I'll go get the rickshaw, because you brought it for some reason, you  _weirdo_. You should tell the captain."

Takao is gone before Midorima can ask again. He frowns. There is very little he likes less than the feeling he's missing something.

* * *

The captain doesn't seem surprised when Midorima informs him, simply waves Midorima off.

The rain comes down it sheets, to the point where the rickshaw is more like a boat with a hole in it; three inches of water and climbing.

"Can't ride in this." Takao says, with a very fake sense of regret. "Guess you'll have to walk. What a shame."

"Perhaps this was a mistake," Midorima muses.

Takao laughs. "Too late for that, Shin-chan."

Midorima rolls his eyes. "Let's go."

Quickly, Midorima realizes his mistake. Takao was not one of nature's' more prepared people.

They only had one umbrella between them.

Takao and Midorima look at it. Then out at the sheets of rain crashing against the windows.

"Guess we'll just have to share." Takao says, and holds out the umbrella. "Here. You're the freakishly tall one, so you get to hold it. I have to push the rickshaw anyway."

Midorima looks and Takao and the umbrella. His throat feels dry. Midorima swallows, and takes the it. Their hands brush and a low, strange tingle shoots down his arm. He unfurls it. He can feel Takao, the way he radiates heat.

Midorima keeps his eyes ahead, watching the rain hit the ground. What is wrong with him?

_"Takao's cute." Hana's bored voice._

His frown turns into a scowl. Hana making fun of him as always, as if he wants his shooting guard to be distracted by - by a  _girlfriend_ , the way Akashi was sometimes.

"Shin-chan?"

He shakes his head. "I am simply tired."

"Yeah. That was a rough game." Takao says. "...what was she like, in Teikou? There must be something you like about her."

The question startles Midorima. Like?

"With Hana," he says, feeling out the words. "It wasn't a matter of like or not. She dated the captain of the team for a while. She - "

_\- she was one of us._

Like doesn't matter, because she is a Miracle in everything but name, just like Momoi.

He doesn't know how to explain it. How she never looks back. Never slows down. Akashi's attitude and Aomine's talent combined, with Murasakibara's work ethic.

"Talent like that," Midorima says at last. "With her personality, upset a lot of people. She never had a lot of friends."

From day one, a few of the students at Hana's old school who came to Teikou, poisoned the well before she had a chance to drink. Shintaro remembers the ugly rumours that seethed around her feet like a frothing wave. Hana is a whore, Hana is a bitch, Hana is a delinquent, Hana has ties with the Yakuza - it was endless.

It doesn't prepare him for seeing her out on the basketball court, that first time. If Midorima wasn't hadn't seen her talk to Nijimura just seconds before, he'd think someone carved a statue to look like a poor imitation of a girl and planted it in the gym.

Hana doesn't look like a person at first.

Small. Pale. Dark hair, so straight and black it looked like a wig at first. Dark eyes, that look through everyone and everything. She doesn't talk. She doesn't smile. She barely blinks.

She turns, meets his eyes. Looks  _through_ him for a split second.

"She never once made fun of my lucky items." Midorima says at last. She never seemed to notice them. "She was easy to be around, despite her… Hana-ness. Easy going."

Despite this, Midorima still has vivid memories of Hana snapping at Murasakibara, napping on Akashi like an overgrown cat, listening quietly to Momoi talk.

Takao blinks. "Really? I'd never guess it. You Miracles are always seemed so weirdly intense."

Midorima adjusts his glasses, choosing to ignore that aside. "I've only seen her hold a grudge against one person." Hana and Murasakibara really, really don't get along.

"Huh." Takao's fingers tap a rhythm on the bike handle. "Hey Shin-chan… what was Teikou really like?"

The question startles Midorima for some reason. He glances down at Takao, but Takao doesn't look back; he's watching his feet.

Shintaro returns to watching the ripples his shoes make in the growing puddles. "Cold." He says at last. Scores climbing, numbers and people who lived by them. "And warm."

His team, the Miracles, the way they were. Before everything fell apart. Midorima is not someone driven by sentiment, but he sometimes remembers the feeling of being sat at a lunch table, letting the chatter of the other Miracles wash over him.

He looks up, past the umbrella, into the cloudy sky. "We were  _invincible_."

_And it broke us._

Takao is quiet for a long moment. "Do you miss it?"

Did he?

"Some of it." Midorima says, because that's the truth. Before Akashi split, before Aomine got lost in himself, before Kuroko vanished. Much as it pains him sometimes, the Miracles are Midorima's friends. The first two years, they were happy with their strange little group, with Hana flitting on the outskirts, and Momoi drifting in and out with information whenever she wanted.

"But that's the in the past." He meets Takao's eyes. "I would not go back, if I could. We Miracles have all moved on, as is right. I belong with Shutoku now."

Much as Midorima hates it, he needed the wake up call Hana brought with her, that Kuroko and Kagami drove home.

He is not  _invincible_ anymore.

It's a… welcome change. Teikou stopped being fun without the challenge. Midorima thinks about meeting his friends on the court, going up against Hana and Kuroko and Kagami again, and feels his mouth curl up.

Losing is hard. But that game was the most fun he's had in a long, long time.

He's looking forward to playing again. Winning with his team, fighting with his team.

"Do you wanna get lunch?" Takao blurts out. Then he groans and leans forward over the handles of the bike. "I just said that out loud."

Midorima blinks. It's five in the afternoon, far too late for lunch.

Takao clears his throat. "I mean, not lunch, but  _food_ \- I know I'm hungry after that match, losing is hard work, and I really,  _really_ to stop talking -"

"Alright." Midorima says.

Takao's head jerks up. "What, really?"

Midorima adjusts his glasses. "Dinner after a game was tradition at Teikou. It promotes team bonding, resulting in a more harmonious club."

Takao stares at Midorima long enough to make his shoulders he sighs, leans against the bike with arms crossed, and buries his face in them. "...Right. Team bonding. That's what I meant."

His voice doesn't sound quite right, but Midorima can't find a way to bring it up. He's never been the best with people. "I want takoyaki."

"Sounds good, Shin-chan." Takao says, voice muffled.

* * *

A conversation Midorima doesn't share with Takao.

It's a week before graduation and Midorima comes back from speaking with a teacher to find his lucky item shattered on the floor. He stares at it, an and all Midorima can think is (name will be so disappointed. The barrette is one of her favorites, and she only reluctantly let him borrow it today because it was so last minute - and he needed something specifically from a girls he knows.

It happens every so often - people take offense to his lucky items, take them apart. He normally takes them with him everywhere, but he must have let his attention slip.

He kneels next to the sparkly pink remains of his little sister's favorite barrette and begins gently picking it up. Tries to breath through his anger.

"...Shin-chan?" Hana asks from behind him.

"Not now right now, Hana." He says, not looking up from his work. His sister loves -  _loved_  the barrette. How was he going to make it up to her?

Footsteps. Hana crouches next to him, but does nothing else. He looks up to find her studying him.

"You really believe in this stuff." She says finally.

Midorima glares at her. "Of course I do. Oha Asa is always accurate. Not that it's any of your business."

"True." She says, with a halfhearted shrug. She doesn't move, though. Hana crouches there with him for the ten minutes it takes for him to gather up all the pieces he could find.

When Midorima stands, his knees sting, and he's starting to feel that familiar anxiety well up in the pit of his stomach. How is he going to get home like this? He doesn't have any other female acquaintances outside of Momoi - but he knows better than to touch his phone in this state. It'd just get broken somehow.

...getting into a car or train like this would be stupid. The car might crash, and the train would absolutely jam. He has to walk home.

Shintaro's heart sank. Oha Asa predicted that cancers would be disastrous for him today. Those bullies must have been cancers - he wasn't careful enough.

"-chan."

Midorima blinks at Hana's voice and looks down - and his glasses slip off his nose , plummet like stones to the earth. He snatches at them reflexifly but misses - they bounce off his wrist, and he flinches back from a sting of pain.

The glasses fly off in the other direction. Midorima clutches his wrist to his chest while he watches the glasses fall in slow motion and resigns himself to walking home blind.

A blurry, pale hand snatches the glass out of the air, easy as breathing.

Midorima blinks.

The blurry figure of Hana holds out his glasses to him.

He takes them with his right hand, and puts them on his face, lets the world come back into clarity. He looks down to find Hana watching him with her dark, blank eyes.

Midorima clears his throat. "Thank you."

"...sure. Your lucky item," she says and he braces himself for the ridicule, the scorn. "What was it?"

_What?_

"What?" He asks out loud.

She blinks slowly at him. "The lucky item, Shin-chan."

He watches her, years of pain conditioning him for the joke, the catch.

Her black eyes are opaque. She doesn't move. If not for the sway of her hair, bound up in a high ponytail today, in the gentle air conditioning air flow, he'd think she was a painting. Endless. Mountain like.

Hana waits for his answer, because Hana always waits.

"...a hair accessory from a female of my acquaintance." He says at last. Thinks of the sparkly barrett he borrowed from his sister and tries not to wince. She loves that barrett.

Loved it.

"Hmm. Kay." Hana reaches up to her own hair and tugs. The ponytail comes down like a waterfall, like a curtain going down between the two of them.

She holds out her hand, without saying anything.

Midorima stares at her with wide eyes, wrist still clutched to his chest. He wants to refuse, because he's not a charity case - but he can't. Hana does fit the conditions of "female he knows", even if the thought hurts his brain a little.

She willingly dates Akashi, after all. She can't be real.

He extends his hands, and Hana drops it into his palm. It doesn't vanish like he half expects; it's heavier than he thought, solid and shaped like a spray of leaves - or maybe leaves shaped like cats. Very feminine. Not her style.

Where did she even get this?

"Thank you." Midorima says, stiffly, even as the familiar weight of a lucky item relaxes the pit in his stomach. "I will return it tomorrow."

She shrugs. "Don't bother. Just Kise being annoying. Give it to your sister or something."

Midorima should protest... but he also doesn't want to deal with the inevitable waterworks when he returns home without a replacement. He adjusts his glasses. "Then I shall. Good day to you, Hana."

She gives him a lazy salute over her shoulder but doesn't look back.

He makes it safely home.

Naoko loves the new hair clip. He can see the sparkly admiration in her eyes at the 'grown up' accessory and imeadeatly takes out her pigtails and has Shintarou pull her hair back into a high bun on the back of her head.

He obliges, relieves that there will be no tears today. He doesn't think anymore of it, not until their mother returns home from work an hour later. They sit down for dinner together and Nanoko shows off her new hair clip.

Their mother blinks once. Twice. Lets out a strangled cough. "Can I see that again, Nao-chan?"

Nao doesn't hear anything wrong with her tone, but Shintarou looks up sharply. His mother is pale.

Nao hands over the hair clip with obvious reluctance. "Don't break it."

"I won't, honey." Mother says with a small smile. She studies the clip, and flips it over. "Oh my." Her voice is faint. "Shintarou, where did you get this?"

Midorima frowns. "Is there something wrong?"

"Mommy?" Nao's voice is anxious.

Mother shakes herself, blinks and gives them both a smile. "Nothing, dear. This is a very fancy, very grown up hair clip. I don't think it's for little girls. How about I keep this for now and we'll go out and find you a different one this weekend?"

"No! It's mine! Shi-nii gave it to me!" Nao says, and Midorima braces himself for the waterworks.

"What's wrong with it?" He asks. Hana is strange, but he can't believe she'd give him something dangerous.

"This is a Karin brand accessory." His mother says, voice low. "Even  _one_  of these costs a year and a half of my salary. Where did you get it, Shintarou?"

His mind blanks.

That's... that's a lot of money. "A friend gave it to me." He says. "I broke my lucky item and - how can it be that expensive? It's a hair clip!"

"I don't care. You'll give it back to her, tomorrow. This is  _far_  to expensive to give a friend." His mother's tone was deadly serious.

Midorima nods, numb. It's such a Hana thing to do that he's speechless.

But it's too late. The next day, Hana isn't in school and no one knows where she went. He doesn't see her again for three months.

Kuroko is gone too, but no one notices it. Not until, much much later.

Midorima keeps the hair clip.

* * *

The first step into the restaurant, and Midorima knows it's a mistake.

The startled faces of Serin stare back at him, and - Kise in the corner with his captain? What?

Oh. That's right, Kuroko is here. Mystery solved.

Takao laughs. "Yikes. What are the odds, huh Shin-chan?"

Midorima turns and walks right out - and almost gets hit in the head by a flying branch. He freezes in the doorway, clutching at his lucky item.

_Thank you, Oha Asa._

The wind tugs violently at his uniform, and Shintarou does the math in his head; dealing with Kuroko is fine, tolerable even - dealing with Kise and Kuroko in the same place is a different beast entirely. Kise is one of his friends, but Kuroko knocks off ninety brain-cells and all of his attention span.

…Shintarou is wet and miserable, and he has to apologize to Hana for his rudeness today anyway. It's cold. He doesn't want to go back into that weather. His horoscope says to be wary of water today.

Shintarou squares his shoulders and - gives in. Turns around and goes back inside. Takao is still standing in the same place with his hands behind his head, that annoying amused smile on his face. His earlier contemplative attitude is replaced by his usual mischievous spark.

"Shut up." Midorima says.

He laughs again. "I didn't say anything. I think your old team wants to talk to you."

Midorima gets no chance to protest. Takao works his charm and suddenly Seirin shift seats and he ends up sitting next to Kuroko, with Kise and Kagami on the other side of the table. It's quiet for the first five minutes, and Shintarou can tell there's something off about the atmosphere of the room.

Seirin isn't acting like they won.

Midorima eyes Kagami with disdain. Why is he at this table if it's a supposed miracle meeting? In fact - he looks around. No sign of ink dark hair.

Midorima frowns. "Where is Hana?"

The rest of the table is already quiet, but with the question the temperature goes down to sub zero.

"What?"

Kagami and Kuroko exchange a glance.

Kuroko is the one to answer him. "We don't know."

Midorima blinks. "W-what? It's only been an hour and a half. How could you loose her that fast?"

Kagami sighs and slumps forward on the table, head in hands. "I don't  _know_. She just took off, ignored coach and everything. That girl will be the death of me. Are you miracles just allergic to common sense or something?"

Midorima gives an offended sniff. He has  _plenty_  of common sense.

"Mashiro-san isn't answering her phone either." Kuroko says, mouth a thin line. "I cannot contact her."

"Surely Kise knows?" Midorima looks at the model.

Kise flinches. "Ah ha ha. Me an Hana are kinda... not talking right now?"

Midorima drops his chopsticks, but he's too busy staring at Kise to care. "Excuse me?"

Kise's shrug is uncomfortable.

Midorima can't wrap his his mind around it. Kise and Hana weren't exactly attached at the hip, but he would say that siblings - twins, even - would be the most accurate description of their relationship. It was like hearing that Murasakibara gave up sweets. Aomine aced a test. Akashi lost at something.

Plausible, but unlikely.

Midorima picks up his chopsticks. "Well. That might be so, but I don't see what the problems is. Hana can take care of herself. She doesn't need to be babysat."

Kuroko and Kise and Kagami exchange a glance.

"...true." Kuroko agrees reluctantly. "Mashiro-san is very capable."

Kagami doesn't look convinced, and mutters something about locker rooms and showers and Maji burger, for some reason, but his mouth is too full to understand him.

"Gross, Kagamicchi." Kise wrinkles his nose.

With that, the topic seems to drop. Kise brightens up into his normal air-headed self, and bugs Kuroko insistently. Kagami eats. Takao is... himself.

Midorima can't shake the unease in the pit of his stomach.

I never got to return the hair pin, Midorima thinks.

* * *

After he takes a shower at home, Midorima sits in front of his desk with his arms crossed. His eyes are trained on the phone placed in the middle of it.

He reaches out a hand. Hesitates.

With a sigh of resignation he picks up the phone and dials a number. Puts the phone to his ear.

_Click._

"Shintarou. It's rather late."

"Akashi." Midorima says. "I found Hana."

Midorima knows none of the others would tell Akashi anything - Kise is too intimidated, Kuroko too angry. Momoi - Midorima doesn't know why she does anything. She never says anything, but Midorima thinks she too knows about Akashi's split.

But him? He owes Akashi this much at least.

A deep silence on the other end of the phone.

"Tell me." Akashi says.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay this chapter was a bitch and a half to write, but it's done as i'm going to get it. I love midorima guys. hes so dumb for someone so smart.  
> as always make sure you guys point out any ooc parts or just tell me which bits you liked the most.
> 
> there won't be any updates in april, because i'm finishing up my other story (I don't want to live on the moon) for camp Nano. I'll be too busy to write :(


	16. XVI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ayyyy i'm back

The rain stings your skin, sticks your black hair to your face. You don't know how long you walk. You don't know much of anything. You let your heart go somewhere between the court and the door and all you have going on down there is a quiet dark throb of empty. The numbness sets in -- not from the cold and wet, but from the inside. A lump of ice forms in your chest, to the point that it froze everything it touched.

 

Something burns below your skin. An ache you recognize, resign too.  


You're in the red light district. It's familiar. You've been through once or twice before. Neon lights glitter off the pools of water forming, rippling with each drop. Your sneakers splash through them, turning light into fractals. It looks like another world beneath your feet. You're already soaked to the bone. Who cared about a little more water?

 

Even the red light district is deserted this late at night, and the clouds don’t help. Paper advertisements wilt in the rain. The few people out are standing under the eaves, waiting for the rain to stop. You feel their eyes on you, one girl just wandering without an umbrella. No one stops you. You don't think. Just walk.

  
You hesitate for a second, feet turning towards the apartment your father bought you. Except you know if you go there, lay down, you won’t be getting back up for a long, long time. You can't let the cold set in -- you don't know how you'd live through it. There's no Kise at home, keeping you fed, bringing you water. Maybe you'd starve. Maybe you'd open up the balcony for the first time.

 

The very last shred of you left doesn't care -- but you have a band of black around your wrist.  
  
Kuroko. Blue hair. Pale, blank face.  
  
_Real._  
  
So your promises matter.

 

 _Can't play basketball when you're dead._  
  
Grit your teeth, you pull around, continue deeper into the streets. The few people out move around you, even here. You walk through your own person bubble of space that keeps everything out but the rain. You stop in the middle of a walkway, just once. The people around you part like a stream around a rock.  
  
You wander, following your shadow, stretched out in front of you. Eventually, the rain turns from a torrent into a drizzle; the sound of tokyo nightlife comes back.  Your eyes pass over them like their air. Not what you want. Not what you need.

 

You have to _wake up_.

  
The smell of something acrid hits you and you blink, slowly. Come back to awareness with a ripple. Lights, neon and street. People still out, even in the rain. The jersey shirt sticks to you. The white of serin's uniform written across your bare skin.  


You turn your head and follow the smell of smoke. A small alleyway. Trash. Five boys in a uniform you don’t recognize, laughing -- a mean, ugly sort of laughter. A cigarette hangs from one of their hands. One of the boys has scraped knuckles, another a bandage. Used to fighting. Heavy with anger and violence. The Haizaki type.

 

 _Perfect_ .  
  
You take off your shoe and wind up. Let go.  
  
It flies through the air, hits one of the boys on the back of the head. The boy lets out a cry of pain.  
  
"The fuck was that?" He turned around, narrow eyes glance down at the shoe and than up. “Who the fuck threw that?”

  
You tilt your head.  
  
The people around you draw back as one, quickly find other places to be. Good.  
  
The boy storms out of the alley, and his buddies follow him after a moment. He stalks up to you and pulls your shirt into his fist. “Bitch, I’m going to fucking _kill_ you.”

 

He's got five inches and a hundred pounds on you. You’re outnumbered. Tired. Slow.

  
Might actually get a challenge, for once.  
   
You let him get up in your face, expression unchanged.  
  
"You think I won't kill you because you're a girl? Huh?" He leans into your face. “I ain’t afraid to hit a chick, but you can make it up to me another way.” His eyes trail down to your soaked shirt.  
  
You wrinkle your nose. "Your breath smells like shit."  
  
He went red. His fist went back. "You’re fucking done for!"

 

You shift, let yourself go limp. The man startles at taking your full weight and takes a step forward.

 

You hook your ankle around his and yank.  
  
He stumbles. You're ready. He's not.  
  
You slug him in the stomach.

 

He wheezes, hand coming up too late to protect his stomach. Bent over double, it's easy to fit your hands around the back of his head and bring it down to meet your knee. You feel his nose give with a crunch and the man lets out another cry of pain and staggers back. He trips over something, goes down with a clattler into a pile of garbage near the wall.  


You look at him, where he dripped water and blood. His friends are frozen, and you can hear your heartbeat under the rain. Consider bringing your heel down on his throat, calm and cold. You know what happens after death. Taking a life brings no guilt.

 

It’s just a passing thought. That’s not what you want, not right now.

 

“Get up.” You say, and your voice is flat, dead even. Make this worth your while.

 

“ _Bitch_ ,” one of them snarls lowly. The moment breaks and they rush you.

 

Finally.

  
You throw yourself into it. You don't have time to think in a place like this. They come at you from all sides, and you were right. They were used to fighting; work well together as a group. The fight passes in blinks. Snapshots. Flesh splits under your fist.

 

Cries of pain.

 

Still not fast enough. They can’t hit you; and you’d be disappointed if you felt anything at all.  
  
A familiar streak of pink appears in the corner of your eyes.

 

“Hana-chan!”

 

For one long moment you hesitate; _too_ long.

 

One of the delinquents takes advantage and slugs you in the face.  


_Pain._

 

Like a drowning girl reaching air for the first time, you inhale -- pain breaks the numbness into shards of glass, and you cut yourself on them. Hold them to your heart; who cares if they draw blood when you finally feel the rain on your skin?

 

"...Hana-chan?" A voice you haven't heard in three months brings you back to yourself. “Are you alright?”  


You come back to yourself. Rough fabric in your fist. Breath coming in deep exhales. An echo of pain radiating from your cheek, your wrist. The boy you hold up by the collar groans, eyes shut. You drop him. Turn around, steps slow. The light spills through the alley's mouth, red and blue and pink -- a harsher pink than the hair of the girl who stands there.  


"...Momoi." You say. Your voice sounds horse, like you’ve been screaming.  
  
She doesn't disappear. Momoi stands under a pink umbrella, her long hair loose around her face. The neon lights painted her skin, halo her hair. You can’t make out her face. Can’t see the emotion in her eyes. She takes a step forward, the puddle holding her reflection breaks under her heel.

 

She steps up to you, reaches out. Her hand hovers over the place the boy punched you. “Hana-chan, are you okay?”    
  
"I’m fine. Why are you here?" You don’t know how she found you. You don’t care.  

 

She takes another step forward. The light caught on the curve on her smile. Her eyes are worried, though. "I was at the match with Midorin, but you left before I could find you. So I asked around and one of my contacts. Congratulations, Hana-chan. You did well.” She sounds scincire. Like you didn’t grind one of her friends’ faces into the dirt, like you _deserve_ it.

 

Like victory _meant_ anything.

 

“...Thanks.” You say, voice still that strange river stone flat.  
  
The groan of pain brings your attention back to the men sprawled on the ground.  
  
How much did she see?  
  
You look at her and she doesn’t even look at the boys on the floor. Momoi meets your stare with eyes as clear and steady as ever. Your shoulders relax a fraction. No fear in her eyes.  


The sound of glass breaking tears your attention from Momoi. You step forward, because you can fight and she can’t.

  
The first boy you hit struggles out of the garbage pile, a bottle in his hand. Jagged edges smile in the light and he glares at you. "You -- "  


You step forward. He retreats with and you advance, until his back touches the wall and he freezes. His eyes are brown, and wide and afraid. They watch you like a mouse watches a snake.

 

You lean in,

 

He raises the bottle.“I-I’ll do it --”  
  
"You'll what?" You say, mild as milk. Inhale, and the bottle touches the hollow of your throat. You look into his eyes, let him see the utter lack of fear.  
  
The boy goes pale white, clenches his hands, glass creaking.  


Momoi exhales softly behind you. You keep your eyes on the boy. He swallows and slowly, slowly, lowers the bottle. It clatters from his fingers, shatters on the concrete. He flinches. You don’t.

 

 _Figures._  
  
"Don’t make threats you can’t follow through on." You say.

 

He flushes, but says nothing. You step back a touch and the way he edges around you speaks of fear.  
  
You let him go, watch him back up to his friends, eyes still on you.  
  
Water drips down your hair, down your face.

  
You look up at the clear sky, breathe deep. You look down. "Fuck off." You say.  
  
They do. It leaves you in the alley. You and Momoi.

 

The two of you stand in silence. You don’t know what to say. Words flicker in and out of your grasp like fish in a river. Thoughts are sand, you can’t hold onto them. An overwhelming exhaustion fills you.

 

A low, pained, whine breaks the quiet.

 

Momoi blinks.  "What was that?"

 

...Come to think of it, why were the delinquents here in the first place? You glance over your shoulder. It came from behind you -- there. A pile of soggy cardboard boxes beside an empty dumpster moves.

 

Momoi steps past you, and you're left dizzy with the smell of her hair and the rain.

 

"Oh!" Momoi exclaims softly.

 

A pair of sared, ice blue eyes stares back at the two of you.

 

_...Kuroko?_

 

You tilt your head. No, it’s not Kuroko. Too much emotion. Also, that's clearly a dog. You frown. Something tickled at the back of your head. A memory.

 

...Nigou. Tetsuya number two?

 

 _Here_?

 

You stare at the dog, face flat. A long sigh leaves your mouth. Even here, you weren't free. You suspect moving to america wouldn't have saved you either.

 

You can’t… you can’t _run_ anymore. It just follows you.  

 

"How awful -- they must have been teasing it. Poor thing. Look how beat up it is!" Momoi crouches and holds out her hand for the puppy to sniff.  
  
The puppy shies away, tail tucked under his body. It's fur is stained with dirt, and it's obvious that it's hind leg has something wrong with it. Momoi tries to get closer and the puppy backs up  again, skirts around her hand.  
  
You look down at the puppy behind your legs without expression.  
  
It looks up at you -- and it's tail starts wagging, slowly at first, and then picks up speed.  
  
You nudge it away with your foot -- and it runs right back. You look at Momoi, not really sure what to do. You're... exhausted.  
  
You can't read the look on her face. Her eyes are stained glass, beautiful in the light, but opaque.  
  
Finally, she smiles. "I think it likes you, Hana-chan. It knows you saved it."  
  
"...ah." You say. The burst of energy from the fight is fading quickly. The numbness is gone, but the exhaustion never really goes away. You feel the way wet clothes weigh you down. The sky is dark with rain clouds -- it shows no sign of clearing up.  
  
Momoi stands and brushes off her skirt. She looks at you with her stained glass eyes. "You're soaking wet." She took a step closer. You feel rooted to the spot. "We should get you into different clothes." Momoi reaches out to take your wrist-- then hesitates.

 

Something bubbles underneath the surface of the apathy, like a tether pulled to his limits. About to snap.

 

You feel her touch from five inches away, like a ghost on your skin. The moment stretches out -- her, reaching, you standing still. Waiting.

 

You can’t move.

 

You -- you feel _still_ , your heart slow and steady.  


She takes a deep breath, and takes your wrist in her hand, a gentle thing, soft and light as a butterfly landing on your wrist. She pulls you towards her, under the umbrella. It'd be easy to break her grip.

  
You don't.  


Momoi pulls you under the umbrella. "You shouldn't go out without an umbrella, Hana-chan. I'll walk you home, okay? We can share." She looks down and smiles. "And we can take care of your little shadow."  


There’s blood on your knuckles, on your clothes. She still speaks to you, voice gentle like _you’re_ the one who’s hurt.

 

Momoi smiles and hooks her pinky around your index finger. "Let's get you -- the both of you -- cleaned up, okay?"

 

You glance down. A pair of blue eyes stares up at you; the puppy still sits at your feet. It whined hopefully.  


_I already have a shadow, though._  


You shake the thought off. Under Momoi and the puppy's eyes, the only thing you can do is collapse. Accept it. You scoop up the dog. It's strangely docile for a stray -- did it use to have an owner? Where were they now?  


“Let’s get you home, Hana-chan.”

 

* * *

 

The walk back is quiet and long. Fog filled your mind, but your feet stay steady. Momoi’s shoulder brushes yours. The rain poured down leaving you and Momoi in a tiny slice of quiet. It seems far away; a sound belonging to a different place, a different world. You walk in step with Momoi, the puppy held to your chest, and her hand is a brand around your wrist.You let her hold it t and lead you along. You're tapped. The caring meter is empty.  
  
Momoi leads the way, and you're not surprised when she walks up to your apartment building despite not having directions. Momoi always knows. Once you started playing, she probably made a file for you. That's the way of the world.

In the lobby, Momoi lets go of your hand. 

  
You look at her. Ignore the way your skin feels strange, how little it fits.  
  
She smiles at you. "I should go home. Dai-chan will be worried sick, the dummy. Who knows what he'll do?" She doesn't move though; she stands there, looks at you with those eyes.

You blink, and your eyelids are stone.

Finally, she half-turns away. "Don't stay out in the rain anymore, okay Hana-chan? Even you could get sick."  
  
The puppy tucks its nose into your neck, and maybe it's the cold pressure that makes you open your mouth.  
  
"Stay." You say.    
  
Momoi eyes go wide.  
  
Your skin prickles again,  you think -- you think of the apartment upstairs; beautiful, expensive -- empty. Under the exhaustion, you feel the violence building up like pressure pushing at an already cracked glass. How long until you shatter? How long until you break and spill out, do something you can't take back?

Not long, if you’re alone.

It doesn't have to be Momoi, but Kise and Kise aren’t here. Even Kuroko would do, even Akashi. But you’d… prefer it, if it was her. It’s strange to have a preference about anything. You don't know why but you'll take it.  
  
You can't make her stay. You stand there, water drips from your hair, sliding down your face and throat like an icy hand. The cold feels off, more like a memory rather than anything real; a story you told yourself once.

Momoi smiles. “Of course, Hana-chan.”

 

* * *

 

 

It’s strange to have someone else in your space. You take the elevator up to the penthouse suite you stay sometimes, unlock the door, and walk in. You leave the door open behind you -- one last chance for her to leave.

 

Momoi follows you in.

 

This isn't the apartment you shared with Kise, a small, modest thing, with all of his friends coming and going. It’s a penthouse suite in the middle of tokyo.

 

You lead her out of the kitchen into the living room. The low lights snap on, bathes the room in low yellow when you enter. The rain crashes down outside, drowns the city, turns it into smudges of light in the dark. The world slows down. Narrows to that edge, the light smiling at you.

 

You _want_ it.

 

You swallow, and tear your eyes back from the window to look at the girl beside you.  


Momoi eyes are wide. "It's nice." She said, clutching her umbrella. "A little… empty, though. I didn’t know you were rich, Hana-chan. Even Akashi would like it here.”

 

The words startle you, and you look at the apartment. The white walls, bare of decoration. Hardwood floors, and the large, sinfully soft carpet you drip on. The brand-new designer furniture, pristine hardwood and marble. The gleam of stainless steel and chrome. Your father spared no expense, but you’re here so little, it feels unlived in. The place is sterile. Like you’ve made no ark on it at all. Now that Momoi is here, you realize how barren the apartment is. No nicknacks on the kitchen counters. No pictures on the wall.

 

It’s sterile

 

“Your family hasn't moved in yet?” Momoi asks.

 

"I don’t live with my family." You say. Your voice feels far away. he whole situation feels surreal,  Like you're looking down on your body, watching it make small talk.

 

The puppy whines and wriggles in your arms, turns to face Momoi. She smiles at it and it barks -- but it's tail wags.

 

You set it down. Look down at yourself. Mud and blood and fur smeared the white uniform. Seirin, it says. Suddenly, you can't _stand_ having it on your skin. You drop your wet bag on the expensive wood floor and strip off the jacket. The jersey follows suit. You reach for the clasp on the bra.

 

“Hana-chan!” Momoi's squeaks. “Don’t suddenly change without saying anything!”

 

You look back down at yourself.  It was just normal underclothes. Black bra with lace edging, something from Kasumi again. You wonder sometimes if she wants you to open up a lingerie store. You still have the shorts on, even.

 

She sighs. “Do you just change in front of your whole team too?”

 

You tilt your head. “Yeah.”

 

She blinks. Opens her mouth -- and shuts it. Her brow pinches slightly.

 

The silence sinks down, into something you can’t define. You stand there with hands frozen on the half open bra, watch her think.

 

Finally, Momoi sighs and smiles at you. “You really haven’t changed, Hana-chan. Midorin used to have fits about your modesty.”

 

Your shoulders tighten and you shrug. This body is yours, sure. That doesn’t mean you’re attached to it.

 

Momoi clears her throat. You glance at her. "I should go call my parents and Dai-chan, let them know I’m staying over. I'll just... "

 

You tilt your head again. Her ears were slightly pink...

 

Without finishing her sentence, she picks up the wet uniform, the puppy and your bag and walks out of the kitchen into the living room.

 

...You give up. You’re too tired to think right now.

* * *

   
  


You shrug. “I don’t care.” 

 

“Pizza it is! Go, go sit down.” 

 

You go. She chatters, easily fills the silence even with your one word answers. The pizza arrives. You eat under her clear eyes, despite lacking any appetite. 

 

She pets Nigou. “I don’t know what to do about him. I can’t keep a dog, and I don't’ want to put him in the pound. He’s just too precious. Look at those eyes!” She tilts her head, and Nigou mimics her. “Aww. He reminds me of someone.” 

 

“Kuroko.” You say. 

 

Momoi blinks and looks again. “You’re right! He looks just like Kuroko. How cute!” 

 

Cute? ...You suppose. 

“Do you know anyone who can take Little Tetsuya in?” 

  
Already named him. You tsk internally. Outside, you just shrug. "I can ask at school tomorrow."

 

Momoi bites her lip. "Will you be alright, keeping him here overnight? I can take him home if you'll get in trouble for keeping pets."

 

You shrug. "It's fine."

 

"Are you sure?"

 

"Yeah. I own the building."

 

Momoi's eyes are round as coins. "What?" Her voice is squeak.

 

"Investments." You say, roll your eyes. Your father is a god of money and he turned your various prizes and photography jobs into a truly stupid amount of money. You could live for ten lives on the interest alone. 

 

So what does he do with it?

 

Buys a high rise in the middle of Tokyo. Of course. Why not? Common sense? What's that? You don't care that much. Wasn't like you were using the money for anything. Still annoying. 

 

"O-oh." Momoi's voice is faint."You and Akashi really were a good match..." 

 

You blink and look at her. What does Akashi have to do with anything? "Momoi?" 

 

She waves her hands like dismissing her words. "It's nothing! I don't know why I said that -- I think I'm just tired. Do you mind if I turn in for the night?" 

 

You stare at her, face still. She's lying. 

 

You let it go. It's not your business. "You don't need my permission for that. First guest bedroom is three doors down. Bathroom's on the left. Use whatever you want." 

 

Momoi smiles at you, and this time it's at least half genuine. Her eyes are unreadable. "Thank you, Hana-chan. It's was good to see you again." That sounds utterly honest.

 

She leaves the room, before you can resond. 

 

You look at Nigou, curled up against your leg. Getting dog fur all over the couch and probably ruining it forever. People are confusing." 

 

He barks back at you, tail wagging.  

 

Amen to that. 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so that was gay. 
> 
> i won nano and i'm stoked to start up on this story again. momoi decided to be included in this chapter btw, i didn't plan for it. 
> 
> news: probably moving the update date to sunday instead of monday -- monday is just too much of a busy day. i go food shopping for one thing, and that always takes a while. Fang under Fang will be updating more regularly. At least once a month, because I have more time to edit the chapters now.


	17. XVII

You wake to the smell of something sweet, a heavy warmth across your lap and on your shoulder. Your head is propped up on your fist, and you turn your head slightly to find pink hair draped across your shoulder. Soft breath ghosts across your neck. You go still.

Oh. That's right. Momoi stayed over. The two of you set up on the couches in the living room without speaking about it. You know you wouldn't sleep if you went to your room anyway, and Momoi refused a guest room. The two of you spent most of last night watching bad game shows and not really Momoi wound up pressed into your side, face into your neck.

The last thing your remember is staring up at the ceiling, your eyes press against your skull like heavy marbles.

You...slept?

Your head feels clear for the first time in months.

The weight over your lap shifts and you look down; the dog is curled up in your lap. You pat him. His fur is very soft - Momoi must have cleaned him up. Nigou whines something in his sleep. He had a mouthful of your shirt, getting drool all over it.

You let him sleep. The rising sun doesn't feel as harsh today; it runs a warm hand across your brow, your skin. Your head doesn't hurt as much. Is the secret to sleep just having a warm body beside you when you sleep? You don't know. You always slept better with Kise around, but maybe it doesn't have to be someone you know. Maybe anyone would do.

You already know some prostitutes. It'll be easy to test your theory.

While you think, the sun rises up further, bathing the room in pale gold. You feel Momoi shift and look down; meet her sleepy eyes.

She blinks. "What time is it?"

"Don't know."

"Hm." She seemed out of it, buries her head back into your shoulder, her arms wind around your waist. "Too bright."

"Yeah." Your voice comes out quiet.

She freezes. Pulls back and looks at your face. Her hands are still on your waist. "Hana-chan?" Her voice is half an octave higher than normal. She clears her throat and looks around the room. "Oh... this is your house?"

You raise an eyebrow, your side strangely cold. "Yeah." Is she still half asleep?

She let's go like you became white hot. "Sorry! Sorry, I thought I was dreaming! I didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

"It's fine. I don't care." You've never been the type to care about personal space. You sit up and the movement jostles Nigou enough to wake him up. He takes a look at you and his tail wags like he's trying to cool down the apartment all by himself.

Momoi bites her lip. Her mascara is smudged and her hair is kind of a mess. Your fingers itch for a camera. Even like this, she's beautiful. You want to -

\- pain.

You look down at your wrist, startled from the thought. Your hands clenched on the arm rest, and it sends a stinging pain through your wrist again. Last night, you didn't feel anything - but you were pretty gone. Hanging by a thread. You flex out your hands. Pain radiates down your arm like white hot wire shoved into your veins. Ow, you think, almost surprised. How long since you felt anything more than numb?

It... hurts.

You should say something. Wrap it up. Go to the hospital. You don't.

A phone going off, some sort of tinny pop song.

You look at Momoi, and she gives you a sheepish smile before She flips open the phone. "What do you want, Dai-chan?"

You can't hear what he says but you catch the words 'practice' and 'late'. She rolls her eyes.

"I don't want to hear that from you. Besides I already told Imayoshi-sepai that I'd be busy today, so I'm not even supposed to - What? No, not with a guy. Hana-chan. I said, Hana-chan."

Silence. Momoi's brow wrinkles. "What? No. *No. Don't be rude, Dai-chan."

More conversation.

You card through Nigou's fur idly, ignore the shocks it sends through your wrist. You should get to practice, but you don't really want to face the inquisition. Kagami will bitch at you, probably. Plus... this is nice. The sun is warm, and so is Nigou. You were so cold yesterday, and you still are; deep in the pit of your chest the ball of ice hasn't thawed.

Momoi rolls her eyes. "Fine! Oh my god, stop whining!" She holds the phone out to you. "He wants to talk to you."

You raise an eyebrow. "...Why?"

It's not like you're friends. Acquaintances at best.

"I have no idea. Dai-chan's mind works in mysterious ways."

Well. Whatever. You take the phone, ignore the stab of pain that shoots up your arm. "What."

"God, you sound bitchy as always. Punched anyone lately, Hana?"

"Yesterday." You say.

He laughs, mocking. "Typical."

Aomine sounds the same as always; rough, with the undercurrent of arrogance cut through with mocking derision. It rolls off you like always. He'd changed in the last year, going from the sweet, dumb basketball moron, to something more jagged.

"Mmm." You pull your leg up to your chest. Even with his sharp edges, the quiet pause feels easy. Whatever you are, you were something like friends once.

Momoi gets up from the couch and straightens her skirt. It's wrinkled beyond saving. She sighs. "Hana-chan, do you have any clothes I can borrow? I wasn't expecting to stay the night anywhere."

You point towards your bedroom. "Second door on the left. Take what you need."

She flashes you a smile and pads there on bare feet.

Aomine snorts in your ear, and you blink, look away from Momoi.

"What?" You ask, faintly annoyed. Nigou whines and licks your hand.

Aomine scoffs. "You're pathetic."

"Huh." You flop down on your side, scooping Nigou to your chest so he doesn't get crushed. "No one's ever said that to me before." Your voice sounds mystified to your own ears.

You should probably be mad, but it's just interesting in a slightly strange way. maybe its the fact you've slept for once, but everything seems softer today. You have no idea what he's talking about. He sure sounds firm about it, though.

"I'm not surprised. You have that whole crazy eyed Akashi 2.0 thing going on. People are a bunch of pansies."

Everyone but Aomine, apparently. You roll your eyes. "What do you want, Aomine?"

"Momoi told me you joined a team." His voice is low, deep. He sounds so unlike himself and all of the amusement drained out of his voice. "With Kuroko. You're playing basketball."

You tilt your head back, press into the couch back. Nigou whines and pushes his head into your palm.

"Yeah." You say.

Aomine exhales and even without seeing his face, you can see the way his smile is all teeth. "Momoi's never wrong. Still didn't really believe it. Oh man. Fucking  _finally_." He laughs, but there's no happiness in it. Only anticipation.

You stare out the window at the city below, watch sunlight skip across the high-rise buildings like a stone across the river. You say nothing.

"This is going to be fun." He says, voice half mad. "See you soon, Hana."

Click. He's gone.

You close your eyes and drop the phone.

Footsteps announce Momoi's reappearance.

"Oh a scale of one to ten," you say without opening your eyes. "How likely is it that Aomine will show up at my school to demand a one on one?'

"Oh dear." Momoi says. "...Nine. Point ninety nine."

You sigh. Yeah. That's about what you thought.

* * *

Your uniform is a wrinkly mess, and your jersey isn't much better and you get the feeling Momoi would protest just wearing them out of the house. You opt for a black tank top and a pair of dark grey shorts instead. Your hair is a mess, and you've got sunglasses and a dog under your arm.

"Won't you be late for practice?" Momoi asks. She's managed to find a outfit worthy of a model in your closet; clean white jacket, dark blue skirt, black shirt that barely fits over her chest, because they were tailored for you after all. It brings out the color in her hair.

You shrug, unconcerned. The concierge in the lobby bows you out, and you flip him your keys and a random bill pulled out of your wallet. One of your father's people.

"Will they let you take the dog in the court?" Momoi smiled at Nigou, who barked back at her cheerfully. He rode in a messenger bag slung over your shoulder.

"They won't be at school today." You say. "Coach will want to train the team."

"That makes sense. Will they be at the Aida gym, then?" Momoi asks.

You give her a bland look. She could at least pretend to not know the backgrounds of all your teammates.

She gives you a sunny smile in response.

You snort and look away to flip open your phone. Well. Information is her job. You don't hold it against her.

Who should you ask?

The idea of talking to Kuroko still rubs you wrong, and Hyuuga will just yell at you. Coach is a no go, because it just seems like a bad idea. You don't actually know the names of the other freshmen. Or the upperclassmen. Aida input all of the numbers into your phone, but hell if you know which name belongs to who.

...Momoi will know. You don't ask; she'll just be disappointed at you.

That leaves Kagami. You tilt your head and consider his name. It doesn't really fit him.

You change his name before you send off the message.

* * *

_\- hey where r u_

_Eyebrows: who tf is this_

_\- guess_

_eyebrows: hana?_

_\- got it in one_

_eyebrows: WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GO BASTARD_

_eyebrows: COACH IS GOING TO SKIN YOU ALIVE WHEN YOU GET HERE_

_\- k_

_eyebrows: I hate you so much._

_eyebrows: wait are you texting me in english? since when do you_ know _english? why didn't you tell me?_

_\- u didn't ask_

_eyebrows: hate. so. much._

_\- where_

_\- r_

_\- u_

_eyebrows: fucking fine!_

_eyebrows: coach's gym. i'm telling her you're heading in, BTW. she's going to kill you_

_\- tattle tale_

_eyebrows: screw you_

_eyebrows: coach says you have ten min b4 she comes to find you herself_

* * *

You roll your eyes. "You know where the Aida gym is?"

Momoi smiles, smugness radiates off her. Does she ever get tired of being right? "Of course I do."

"Can we get there in ten minutes?"

She considers. "Not by train."

"Not a problem." You shoot off a another text. Within moments a long black car pulls up to the curb. "I've got a ride."

"Hana-chan. That is a Rolls Royce." Momoi says, voice flat.

You shrug. Normally you take the train, but Aida could be a sadist. The drive opens the door for you with a perfect ninety degree bow. You slide in, with Nigou sniffing the air. It takes a second to realize that Momoi hasn't follow you.

You lean forward to look at her, brush the hair that falls in your eyes away. "Coming?"

Momoi stares at you for a long moment. You can't read her face, but here eyes don't leave yours. She sets her shoulders and gingerly slides in. "I don't think I've ever touched something this expensive in my life. Is... do you own this car as well?"

You shrug. "Maybe?" You don't really know what you own anymore. "My dad keeps buying me stuff, even if I never use it."

Momoi blinks. "That's right. I've only heard about you using Akashi's car."

The car is made whisper quiet. The thousands of people on the other side of the glass feel fake, more fake than they already did. You shake your head, listen to Momoi breathing. "I prefer the train."

"...I see." It's clear from her slight frown she's thinking hard about something.

You pocket the phone, ignore the instant buzz of Kagami's messages.

"Is it alright to ignore those?" Momoi asks.

You shrug. "It's just Kagami."

"Kagami... your american teammate? The tall one with the red hair? You seem to get along with him." She looks out at the street.

You shrug. "He's okay."

Fussy though.

Momoi eyes narrow, but she smiles a beat later. She inches closer on the seat, hooks her arm around yours. "So! Tell me about your new team, Hana-chan. Are there any cute boys? Besides Kuroko-kun, of course."

"Information gathering?" A bubble of amusement rises in you.

She pouts. "Am not!"

She absolutely is.

"You can meet them yourself." You say.

* * *

The Aida physical center is a big place, state of the art. Chrome and white walls, with gleaming tile floors and various posters of famous athletes hand in the lobby. Or, you think they're famous. You don't know much about sports still.

You're not ambushed the second you step through the door, like you half expect. In fact, the gym is empty. Momoi looks around. "Did they say they were coming here? I don't even see anyone manning the desk."

Nigou pops his head out of the bag and barks twice. You feel his tail thumping against your side. You set the bag down and he hops out and makes a beeline for the door. You glance at Momoi. She shrugs.

The two of you walk in like you own the place, and Nigou leads the way.

You find The team is sat on the floor in a break room around a low table, Kagami and Kuroko on one side and the coach and captain on the other. Both the freshmen are pale, sweating. Aida looks exasperated . None of them look up when you walk into the room.

You go to the table and raise an eyebrow at the papers spread over the table. Tests driping in red ink. You feel the teacher's resentment and despair through it.

"Wow. You're both idiots." You say.

"Hana-chan," Momoi scolds you.

"Shut the fuck up, Hana - Hana?" Kagami's head whips around and he starts to his feet.

Aida jerks around.

You raise an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"Don't you  _what_  me, asshole. Where were you?" Kagami's eyes sweep over you - looking for something. He gets to your feet and goes pale. "Is that a fucking dog? Why is it in here?"

You shove your hands in your pockets, ignore the shock of breathless pain that shoots up your wrist. "Around." You ignore the dog question. You really don't want to explain how you found him.

"Around  _where_? We called you like fifty times! Next time you disappear, at least tell your fucking team." He seems to forget the dog and scowls at you, but there's something you can't quite place underneath it.

You tilt your head, trying to think of where you recognized it from. You search back, before it hits you.

Nijimura, after you asked him to teach you.

"You're... worried." You sound out the word like it's foreign. It might as well be - You can count on one hand the number of people who care enough to worry about you. Kise, who stayed with you through your worst moments. Your parents, who love you more than life. Kasumi-nee, because despite everything, she takes her role as an elder sister seriously. Nijimura, because he's a chronic worrier and never grew out it. It wasn't strange for him to pick something and fret over it.

Others, they look at your overwhelming talent and insane wealth and rarely see the person behind it. Even Akashi never once worried about you. What would someone like you have to worry  _about_?

You get it. Not like they're wrong, right?

You're fine. You're always fine. You can understand your parents and Kise and Kasumi, even Nijimura a little bit.

Kagami is different. He barely knows you, certainly doesn't  _like_  you.

"Why?" You ask.

Because you're on his team? Because you play basketball with him?

Kagami's eyebrows lower down. "Why what?"

"Why are you worried? I can take care of myself."

"Why - why? You ran off into a thunderstorm with nothing but your uniform! You wouldn't answer your phone. Everyone was worried! We had no idea what happened to you!"

You glance at the team. Find them watching you and Kagami, quiet in a way you can't read. Hyuuga expression is angry - but you don't think it's at you. For once.

 _Everyone_  was worried.

You meet Kuroko's eyes. Look at him for the first time. Same blank face, same flat eyes. It's worse than normally. You can't read him, even have trouble focusing on his form. He wavers like pavement on a hot day. Wonder if he worried as well.

You snort and look back to Kagami. "Sure."

You doubt it. If Kagami doesn't like you, Kurko hates you. Truce or not. Teammates or not.

Kagami pinches the bridge of his nose. "Unbelievable. You've been here for five minutes, and I already have a headache. Just - shut up for a second. Did you eat anything today?"

You pause, think back. Shrug at last. "I don't remember."

Kagami sighs. "What a shock." he walks over the his bag, grabs something and walks back to you. He throws it at your head.

You catch it without thinking - and hold in the white hot burst of agony that shoots up your arm.

Yeah. Your wrist is  _super_  fucked up.

A bread roll crinkles in your grip. It's another weird, beat up one - Pear flavored? Where does he keep getting these? You eye it dubiously. "...Thanks. I think."

He rolls his eyes at you. "Just eat it, Hana. You can't keep skipping meals like that -"

A soft touch to your wrist. "Hana-chan. Will you introduce me to your team?" Momoi voice is as soft as her fingers. You almost forgot she was there in the face of Kagami's... Kagami-ness.

You raise an eyebrow at her. "You already know all of them." It's not a question.

She smiles and hooks her arm around yours. "Of course. It's still polite to pretend."

One of the freshman's gasps a little. You look at him, but he's focused on Momoi - or more specifically her chest, pressed against your arm. You forgot the effect she has on boys. You give him a flat look and he flushes and looks away.

"Well, if we're being polite." You don't shrug her off, despite the eyes of the team on you. "Kagami Taiga, Momoi. Momoi Satsuki, Kagami."

Momoi smiles, but her are familiar from two years of seeing her at games. Calculation. Weighing and measuring, pulling Kagami apart in her mind until he's nothing but a string of data. Whatever she finds makes her grip go tighter. She leans her head against your shoulder. "A pleasure to meet you, Kagamin. And the rest of you as well!"

"Uh - nice to meet you too? Wait, what the hell is a Kagamin?" He looks at you. "Why do all of your friends give me weird nicknames?"

"Maybe it's just your face." Maybe it's his stupid eyebrows.

He glares at you. "What the hell does that mean? I'm not one of the creepy doll twins!"

Momoi leans forward, blocking Kagami from your line of sight. The smell of lilacs drifts past you, and you blink. "My, your team is so full of lookers Hana-chan! I'm jealous, I only have Dai-chan and a bunch of smelly brats." The smile she gives is Kise-bright. "Thank you so much for taking care of Hana-chan for me!"

What is she, your mother?

You can almost see the boys shift as one, red on their cheeks. Aida, however, merely raises a brow and steps in front of the team, arms folded. "Of course. Hana is one of our players. Speaking of, Hana. You have some explaining to do." Just like that, Aida dismisses Momoi and waves you over. "The rest of you, get back to work."

You sigh. This is going to be a pain, you can tell. You take a step forward - and stop, when Momoi's grip tightens once more. You look at her. Her smile is still there, but a crease appears between her eyebrows.

"Hana! Hurry up!" The coach snaps.

"Momoi-san."

Both of you blink at the sound of Kuroko's voice, mild as milk. He gives Momoi a look you can't read.

Momoi takes a deep breath and lets go of your arm. "I need to talk to Kuroko-kun anyway!"

"...Alright." You say.

She gives you a blinding smile and turns to him. "Kuroko-kun!" Momoi exclaims, only to throw her arms around him and pull him into a hug. 'I missed you! It's been ages, and you haven't called me once!"

"Momoi-san. It's good to see you again." Kuroko's smile is barely visible, but for him it might as well be uproarious applause.

...Oh.

You're not surprised, you just... forgot about her crush on Kuroko. No wonder she wanted to come with you. You scratch the back of your head and take a step back out of the crowd. Press your bad wrist to your side and the twinge of pain eases back the sudden itch to *bite. You glance at him, just long enough to catch a glimpse of their pale hair close together, talking lowly. You look away; something sour sits in your mouth, under your tongue.

* * *

You go to the coach. She watches the boys watch Momoi and Kuroko with jealous eyes. Her arms are crossed. Her mouth is hard. "Who is that, and why is she in my gym, distracting my players?"

That... wasn't what you expected her to ask.

Kuroko says something low that makes Momoi laugh, and the rest of the team murmur with jealousy in their voices. You don't look over.

"Momoi Satsuki. Know her from Teikou. Manager for Touou now. Smart." You shrug. "Not her fault boys are stupid."

Aida glances at you sharply. "You brought a spy with you?"

You just look at her. "She's already got everything the moment she looked at us. She doesn't need  _me_."

"...how good is she?" Aida's face is less hostile and more considering now.

You glance at Momoi, still wrapped around a blank faced Kuroko, then away again. "The best."

Aida rubs her forehead. "Is she here to try recruiting you and Kuroko too?"

"No." You don't even need to think about it.

For all that Momoi cares about the Miracles, about Kuroko, about you... Aomine will always come first for her. Everything else might change, but not that. Maybe she wants Kuroko at her school. Maybe she came with orders to try and recruit. Momoi won't. Not when she knows Aomine looks forward to your match. Not when you have a chance of knocking him off his throne, back into the mud where he was happier.

You can respect that. You look down at your wrist, the black band around it.

You did the same thing for Kise, after all.

Anything at all, for him

THe coach looks at you, surprise on her face. "Really? How do you know?"

You shrug again. "Aomine wants to play me. Can't do that if I'm on the same team."

"Aomine Daiki. One of the Miracles." Aida says. "You knew him."

"Yeah." You say. "If you want info on him, ask Kuroko. They were best friends."

The coach's eyes go wide. "What?"

What? You tilt your head. "Well. Yeah. Aomine was Kuroko's first light."

She gapes. "W-what? I thought you were his light at Teikou!"

You blink. "Me? I didn't even play. Seirin is my first time."

"But - Kuroko and you always talk about you like you were on the team. One of the Miracles. All of us thought you were the phantom sixth man!"

You fold your arms, lean back against the wall. "I was... like them." Smart and strange and feared. They look at you without flinching. "But I'm not one of them. Not really." You look at your feet, abruptly tired. The electric lights hum.

Yeah. You're still not like them even now.

They, at least, earned their talents. Grew their skill out of long nights practicing and countless games. Whatever came out of it, however they ended up, at least they did it  _honestly_.

You?

It's still so fucking  _easy_  you couldn't see the point in it.

Still can't.

"Hana."

You look up at Aida, who meets your eyes without flinching.

"Don't disappear again." She says. Her voice is quiet and serious. "I mean it. I don't care if you go, so long as you tell someone you're going. It doesn't have to be me. It doesn't even have to be someone from Seirin. Just do it. Do you understand me?"

She's trying to order you around. The idea of it is almost amusing, in a way that's not quite humor. You feel old and tired. You press careful fingers against your broken wrist and breath with the pain of it. Keep your poison behind your tongue. "You're a little young to be my mother, Coach."

Aida doesn't say anything; she just looks at you with serious eyes, her mouth a flat line.

You - look away first. "Fine." You say, the word heavy in your mouth. "I'll tell someone next time."

She studies you a moment longer, and gives a sharp nod at last, satisfied. "Good." Aida throws an arm around your neck and tows you back to the group.

Kagami seems to be trying to pretend very hard the papers on the table don't exist.

"How are you so bad at English? You're American." Kuroko voice is very judgmental. Momoi sits by his side, Nigou sat in her crossed legs. The puppy wags bounds up to you and wags his tail.

"Look - this," Kagami waves at the table. "This is not English. This is  _gibberish_. Mary and John and - whatever! No one talks like that!"

"Kagami's just a basketball idiot." You sit down next to Momoi, across from him. "If it's not orange and round he's not interested."

Kagami glares. "Don't call me an idiot! You're always asleep in class anyway. What the fuck is your rank?"

You raise an eyebrow.

Kuroko sinks lower in his seat.

Kagami notices and scowls. "What?"

Momoi laughs, hand over he mouth. "Hana-chan was always in the top five at Teikou."

You snort and throw the paper back on the table. Wasn't like Seirin is more difficult than Teikou, even as if it's high school compared to middle.

"What?" Kagami spins to Kuroko. "Is that true?"

Your shadow sighs, rubs his face. "...Unfortunately."

"How? You never study!"

You shrug. "Natural talent."

"...I hate you so much."

Aida rubs her chin, obviously thinking. Your stomach sinks, but she nods decisively before you can say anything. "Alright! Hana!" She points at you. "You're in charge of your teammates from now on! Get them up to your level."

"That's impossible." You say, voice flat.

"Oi!" Kagami says.

Aida is merciless. "Too bad! Just do your best Hana. Consider it punishment for making me worry about you."

Ugh.

You put your head down on the table and Nigou licks your hand. 

At least  _he_  cares. 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is it gay enough yet 
> 
> also i published a new story collection called The Hourglass. it's a bunch of short stories about original characters that never made it past the first chapter or so. i got tired of just them just sitting around in my docs lol. also i found like... ten of them in my evernote files?? i don't remember writing any of them so they're old old stuff


	18. XVIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is shorter than normal because it just did not want to get written
> 
> also an attack of 'holy shit, everything i write is terrible garbage, burn it with fire' that passed kind of slowly.

 

* * *

You sit down at the table, papers set out before you. Aida is hard to refuse and, frankly, you just don't have the energy to fight it. So.

Grading Kuroko and Kagami's work like an underpaid tutor.

"No one has explained why there's a dog in here." Kagami eyes Nigou, sleeping on his back with his paws in the air, tongue lolling out.

"Kagami-kun is afraid of dogs?" Kuroko's voice is bland, but Kagami glares at him anyway, like Kuroko said something worse.

Smart of him. Kuroko is the most underhanded of the miracles.

"I just don't like them." Kagami says. "I don't know why anyone does."

"Found him yesterday. He's a stray." You neglect to say how you found him, though your wrist has gone from a low sting to a constant, grinding ache. It keeps you focused. "Need someone to take it."

Momoi giggles. "Hana-chan rescued him! He was running around in the trash, the poor thing."

Kuroko blinks slowly. "Mashiro-san. Rescued a puppy." He looks at you. "Are you sick?"

"Fuck off." Your continue through the papers. God, even Kuroko isn't much better than average in most places. They're both basket ball idiots. It's amazing.

"Eh? You're not going to keep it?" Why did Kagami sound so surprised?

The puppy blinks awake, rolls over - and over, bumping up against your leg without ever getting to his feet. You ignore it, but he doesn't seem to care, content to squirm into your lap.

"No." You say. "I don't like dogs. Kagami, how did you even get into this school? I've seen grade schoolers with better handwriting."

"Like it's my fault you weirdos needed three alphabets to communicate. English only needs twenty six letters! Twenty six! It's so stupid - ack."

Kagami cuts off when Nigou pops up onto the table. You nudge him out of the way absently. He licks your hand and you roll your eyes.

You glance up fast enough to see Kuroko and Momoi exchange a look.

You narrow your eyes at them. "What?"

"Nothing." Momoi says, unconvincingly.

Kuroko speaks up before you can say anything. "Does he have a name?"

"...Nigou." You say, for some reason feeling like you've lost.

Kagami blinks. "Number 2?" He says in english. "I don't get it."

You pick up the puppy by his scruff and hold it across the table, next to Kuroko's face. Two identical pairs of ice blue eyes blink at each other.

"Kuroko Number Two." You say.

"...Holy shit." Kagami leans back, like being blue eyed is contagious. "There's two of him."

"That's perfect, Hana-chan!" Momoi says, stars in her eyes. "You get two tetsu-kuns, how lucky! I'm so jealous."

Kuroko remains blank faced when the puppy's tail starts to slowly wag.

You drop the dog on the table, and he barks cheerfully at Kagami. Kagami flinches back and scrambles away from the table. Nigou follows him, tail wagging at this new game.

At the same moment, Momoi's phone rings. She glances down at it and gives you and Kuroko an apologetic smile. "Sorry! I have to take this, I'll be right back."

You prop your head up on your hands and watch her go, pink hair swaying. The table is quiet, Kuroko and you content to sit in silence.

You meet Kuroko's eye.  _Aomine_?

HIs mouth jerks down the slightest bit.  _Likely_.

… You're doing the telepathy thing again. You scowl slightly and look away.

You don't like many things. It might have something to do with the dark, or maybe this body replaced joy with talent until no room was left. But this, sat in an out of the way corner with the chaos of Seirin playing out behind you - this is almost close to peace. You're not... happy. You might not be capable of that anymore, because it seems like you lose a little more of the ability with every year that passes.

But - you're not numb. Sometimes that's all you can ask for.

"Mashiro-san is angry at me."

You continue to flip through the paper without looking at him. "I'm not angry."

Kuroko is the master of judgmental silences. Too bad you're immune.

You shrug. Tell the truth. "I don't care about you enough to be angry."

Not for long anyway. There was a moment last night when you wanted to peel open your head, let the violence that lives in your bones, your darkness out into the light. It was only a moment, though.

"...Mashiro-san is my light." His voice is tight, unhappy.

Now you look up, face blank. So was Aomine, and he threw you away, you don't say. You don't want to do this. You don't want to talk about yesterday, the way Midorima looked at you like you hurt him. The way you hesitate to touch things sometimes for the reason that you'll break them. The way your wrist throbs with every movement.

Everything you do is wrong in some way, and you've learned to live with that. What else can you do?

You flip over one of the tests. Kagami, dripping red. "For now." You say. "But, you've had other lights. You'll find someone new. "You glance over your shoulder at Kagami, who was hiding behind the coach, away from Nigou. "I'd say you already have."

"That's unfair." He says.

You shrug. "But true."

Kuroko sighs. "I do not want to fight about this."

"Were we fighting?"

It's only the truth. You know he prefers Kagami, and who can blame him? You know your own personality, your own skills. It's not strange to be the last pick. Kagami is what Aomine used to be. You're… you. Talented, of course, but that's it. Too sharp, to mean. You're not in denile. You just don't see the reason in pretending.

Kuroko only shakes his head. He looks over your shoulder at the puppy barking and playing with the team. "...You named the dog already." After him. The question is clear, even with his frozen eyes. After him?

Kuroko Number 2.

You glance up at him, but his face is even more blank than normal. "Yeah?" Your voice is a dare.

He sighs and shakes his head. "Nothing. I cannot take him. My house doesn't allow dogs. I doubt Kagami will either, judging by his fear."

"I'll find someone." You say. Even if you have to speak to your father. Nijimura will take him, if it comes to that. He owes you a favor.

"You're giving him away?" You look up when Aida walks to the table. "I thought he was your dog."

"Just a stray."

"He seems pretty attached to you." Aida folds her arms, a look of contemplation on her face. "The team is already in love with him, I can tell. If the dog brings the team morale up, then we have to keep him."

"He's not bringing  _Kagami's_  morale up." You point out. You can feel the burgeoning of something you're not going to like, the way it always is when she gets that look on her face. You can't count on Kuroko to save you, he's already gone fuzzy in the corner of your eye, playing on his phone. If you're having trouble seeing him, that means no one else is even going to notice that he's gone.

Asshole.

Aida waves her hand, like Kagami's fear is something unrelated. "That's beside the point. We're keeping him! Like a mascot - it's a good idea."

"And who," You say, more out of sense of inevitability than any real desire to know. "Is going to keep him?"

Aida beams at you. "You are, of course! You already gave him a name and everything!"

Of course.

* * *

Aida doesn't give you the time to protest; she folds you into practice like you were never missing. Besides, what would you say? 'No, I didn't name him, I knew his name from a manga I read in another life?'

Yeah. That'd go over well. You have no energy to argue and no real reason too. It's not like you can't afford a dog.

Drill after drill, pass after pass, yours harder than everyone else's. Maybe it's the night of peaceful sleep, but for once, feel your body working body. The stretch of your muscles burns. The breath in your lungs tastes clean. Water is sweet. Everything feels smoother. The basketball doesn't feel as heavy. Even the other freshman don't grate as much, or the roars of 'Kuroko, don't sleep!' when your shadow falters.

Kuroko can't keep up with the rest of you - his stamina is still shit. You shove him back upright before he hits the ground again, and he blinks and shakes his head before moving back into motion. Nigou follows after him, barking cheerfully.

Kagami is laser focused for once, not on bothering you, but watching you with narrowed eyes; watching you move up the court like you were born to it. You slow down just a fraction, repeat the move and see a moment of understanding pop up on his face out of the corner of your eyes.

He follows after you, movement clumsy. You repeat, he repeats, better this time. You and Kagami don't have the years of familiarity of You and Kuroko, but you're getting there. He's nothing if not tenacious.

He grins at you, all teeth. "Do it again."

You're in a good mood, so you oblige.

Your wrist is the once sour note in a symphony. Every passing moment leads to a growing ache, like a vise slowly closing around it. Every time you forget, you move carelessly, the ache transmutes into something white hot and stabbing.

You glance under the black wristband. Red and ugly, swollen to twice its size. You rotate the joint and pain stabs up your arm.

Definitely broken. You take it in your other hand, squeeze down. Pain. You feel it more than ever, present in your body for the first time in months, in years. You should go to a hospital. You should tell the coach.

You don't do any of that. Too much work. You press your wrist until white stars burst in you vision, face utterly blank.

You're fine.

* * *

Aida calls for a break just before the team hits the point of too exhausted. She really is a good rest of the team is panting, drenched in sweat. Even you start to feel a little worn. Only a little. Probably.

Hyuuga takes one look at your utterly unmoved face and groans. "God, I hate you." His voice lacks heat. He flops down onto the floor. "That's it. I'm done. I'm not moving until my next birthday. Or Until Hana shares her secrets."

Kagami, not much better, scoffs. "What secrets? Hana's just a freak."

"Rude." You say.

Hyuuga moves his head the bare amount to glare at you out the corner of his eye. "Shush. Freshmen with insane stamina don't get to say anything." He paused. "Although, I guess it's better than having Kuroko fall asleep again."

Kuroko, face down on the gym floor, only groans.

"Just call it fainting." You say. "That's what he does."

Hyuuga ignores you. "God, if we could mush you and Kuroko together, we'd have an almost perfect player. Talent and drive..."

He's looking you over with speculation on his face. You give him your best deadpan stare.

He sighs. "Of course, we'd never have any idea what you were thinking. Damn poker faced freshmen."

"I have no idea what you mean." You say. "I'm always perfectly clear."

"Blunter than a tire iron to the face." Kagami mutters.

You kick him not so gently in the side. He catches your ankle and yanks. You turn the movement into a controlled tumble. His breath wheezes out when your knee accidentally shoves into his stomach.

A momentary scuffle breaks out, pushing and shoving, until Aida comes over to break it up. "Children, enough! If you have that much energy, go get us some drinks."

Kagami, one hand shoving your head away, the other fending off Nigou, groans. "Captain, I'm exhausted!" He whines, like Hyuuga can do anything agianst the will of the coach. The boy is like wet paper in front of her.

Aida is unmoved. "Should have thought of that before you started wrestling than. Chop chop! Kagami, get everyone's preferences!"

"What? Why me?"

"Because Hana terrifies half the team."

Kagami makes a face, but get up; you sympathize. Arguing with her is just too much effort. He goes off to talk to the rest of the team, and Aida wanders off to go torture some of her other players. This leaves you and an exhausted Kuroko alone on the floor. You get to your feet and brush off your pants.

Kuroko finally turns over, and his face is pale. "Get me a pocari sweat." He croaks.

"Get it yourself." You say on automatic.

He narrows his eyes at you. You stare back. Kuroko's Look might work on the miracles, but you've never been afraid of him. No matter how petty his temper could get.

Momoi's return breaks up the stare off. There's a worried crease between her eyebrows. Nigou runs up to meet her but she only gives him a distracted smile. She sits down next to you without saying anything.

You frown. She was gone for nearly two hours. Too long for a simple phone call. Her skin was almost pale as Kuroko's.

Kuroko finally gets to his feet, and gives her a tiny glance. His mouth goes tight. "Momoi-san, is something wrong?" His voice is gentle and you're surprised for some reason.

Oh, right. Kuroko is a gentleman when the girl isn't you. You forgot about that.

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I need to talk to you about something. Privately."

Kuroko glances at you for some reason. You raise an eyebrow at him.

It's none of your buisness if she wants to talk to him.

You were expecting it, honestly. You already know she likes him. Momoi never hesitated to go after what she wants - you're surprised she didn't just walk in and declare him her boyfreind, like in the manga.

Nigou barks and you look at him. He nudges your hand with his cold nose and tucks himself under your arm. You realize you're squeezing your bad wrist again and let go with a deep breath. Not your business.

"Alright." You hear Kuroko get up.

The sound of their footsteps is strangly loud; you hear it even over the low chatter of the team around the gym. You don't look up until Kagami comes back. You open your bag and Nigou jumps in without prompting. He's already used to being carried around. You stand up and walk up to Kagami.

Kagami gives you a disgruntled look. "Do we have to take the mutt?"

"No." You adjust the bag with Nigou in it back onto your shoulder. "I just want to. Need to pick up supplies. Coaches orders." If you have to suffer, then you're taking him down with you.

"Has anyone told your you're a petty bitch?"

You yawn. "At least I'm not failing half my classes."

He splutters. "It's in a different language! I'd like to drop you into an American school and see how well you do!"

"I think I'd be fine," You say in perfcet, unaccented english. "How  _were_  your grades in America, Kagami?"

"...I hate you so much."

You exit the building through the back, past the fenced private courts attached to the building. Of course Kagami picks up a ball lying on the court and starts dribbling. The sound thumps against your ears and you can feel a headache building up.

"Wanna play?" He asks.

You stare at him, face dead. Nigou wiggles under your arm until his head pops out of the bag. "Do you have selective memory loss? Did you already forget we're on a snack run?"

You just got done with practice. Why is he so eager to continue? You'll never understand basketball idiots.

He makes a face at you. "It's just a question." He spins and ducks on the court, shadowing invisible opponents you can just make out - you're starting to understand the rhythm of the game, no matter how reluctant you are. The sun is low in the sky, and wispy clouds glow yellow and red around it. You fold your arms in the shadow of a tree growing off to the side. You contemplate, a little anoyed, just leaving Kagami to get the stuff by himself.

A flash of blue out of the corner of your eyes interupts your simmering anoyance. You turn your head, more on instinct than anything else.

Momoi and Kuroko sit on a set of steps leading up to another entrance. There heads are bowed together, Momoi leaning on Kuroko's shoulders. Light falls from the glass door behind them, lending them a soft yellow glow. She smiles, bright and soft, at Kuroko and then at the blue sky. Her eyes are closed. Content. Kuroko looks almost speak but you can't make out the words.

You take two steps forward, as if pulled by a string tied to your chest. Something sour climbs up from your stomach.

Momoi laughs, and you... stop.

You stand there, watch them talk for another moment. Just inside the shadow of the tree, you feel your stomach go tight.

She looks happy.

Ah, you think while looking at them. There's the crush. Now that they're at different schools, time with him is scarce. You could go over there and interupt. Momoi is your friend too. You have the right.

Would she smile at you like that? If you went over?

You doubt it.

You... want her too, though. The thought is slow to form and hard to understand. You can't rember the last time you wanted something outside of a quiet place to lay down and scilence. it's strange. Uncomfertable. You sigh, scratch your neck. You want to go out there, but Momoi looks so peaceful. You don't want to see her look at Kuroko like that. It feels like acid. Something inside your stomach burning through you. Your wrist aches.

But.

Momoi is your freind.

For once, you… don't do what you want.

You owe her that much.

Instead you turn away, back to Kagami. You step onto the court, steal the ball from a startled Kagami, dribble twice and toss it behind you.

"Let's go." You say.

Swish goes the ball through the net.

Kagami stares at you - and then he laughs. "God, you're such a showoff." He throws his arm around your shoulder and you let him drag you off the court, towards the convenience store at the end of street.

"If you got it, flaunt it." You shrug. No point in hiding what you can do. If you feel eyes on you while you walk away, it's probably just wishful thinking. No one calls out to stop you.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter: Aomine, Hana's poor life choices, a surprise


	19. XIX

Kagami carries a basketball under one arm, the other shoved into his pockets, a bag laden with snacks hanging off his wrist. The weather cools with the setting sun, a sweet smelling breeze pulls leaves when it blows past the two of you. You follow Kagami up from the train station, your own bag hangs off your good wrist. Nigou seems content to sit in your bag as he watches people board the train behind you. The rest of the snacks are arranged around him, almost burying him from sight.

You feel the sun on your face and look up at the city, scraping the sky. It glitters in the light. Kagami perks when he notices a few college age boys playing a pick up game. He glances at you, hopeful.

You roll your eyes. "We literally just got done with two hours of practice and you want to play more?"

He rolls his eyes at you. "You wanna play or not?"

You snort. "Not."

Still, you don't protest when he heads to the court anyway. It's not like you want to go back to practice. Kagami integrates seamlessly into the group, and you lie down in the grass beside the court, flat on your back, heedless stains or their eyes lingering on you. The sky is blue and fat white clouds drift over it. You feel... not tired for once. Maybe it's that you got more than two hours of sleep. Maybe it's the pain in your wrist pushing the exhaustion back.

Nigou climbs out of the bag and over you, licks your face with enthusiasm. You scratch behind his ears and close your eyes. A basketball dribbles in the background. It's a familiar noise. You can almost pretend that you're back in Teikou, waiting for Kise to finish practice.

You... miss your camera. You miss missing things. Your elementary school days were blurry spots in your mind, like you can't quite relate to the girl in your memories. She was happy, in her own way - Then the minutes started piling up, like being buried stone by stone. Every moment grew harder to bare. You don't know if you can make it another year, another month, another week. Momoi can't spend the night every night, and the apartment isn't getting any better.

Maybe you should... fill it? Like, decorations and stuff. Personalize it. Maybe it wouldn't feel so steril then.

...sounds like so much effort though.

You'd have to deal with neighbors in a normal building. You could buy the thing out and pay everyone to leave?

...That sounds like a very super villain thing to do.

"Kagami," you say without opening your eyes. "How do you take over a small apartment building without becoming a cliche evil businessman?"

The basketball stopped dribbling. "How big of an apartment building are we talking? Twenty stories or something smaller?"

"Smaller." You consider it. "Two or three stories."

"I don't know. Maybe you can't. Why not build one from scratch?"

Because new things make you disconnect from your body. You don't say that.

"Dude, we're in the middle of a game! At least look like you're trying." One of the college kids said, disgruntled.

"Yeah." Another one says. "Quit flirting with your girlfriend! How dare you show off your lovey doveyness in front of us lonely senpais! Kids these days have no respect."

"What? Who am I dating?" Kagami sounds confused.

"The pretty girl!"

"...What, Hana? Are you delusional?"

You think you should be insulted.

"Why are you out with her then?"

"We're teammates!" Kagami snaps. "What does this have to do with the game?"

"Oooh. Explains the bags. Helping the manager with her chores, huh? You're a good kid."

"Not a manager." You say, without opening your eyes.

Kagami laughs. "Yeah, no way. We'd die of neglect or she'd poison us. Hana's a player."

"...What? She's tiny. How can she play basketball with the boys?"

You almost hear Kagami's eye roll. "Hey Hana!"

The whistle of air is the only warning you get. You catch the ball before it hits your face, and the shock of pain leaves you breathless. You throw the ball up in the air, feel it trace a path in the air.

Swish goes the net.

Your eyes are still closed.

"Holy shit," one of the boys whispers.

"Yeah." Kagami says, wry. "Don't worry about Hana. She's the best on the team - for now, anyway."

You tilt your head and open your eyes to meet his gaze. A bone deep determination fills them, a wordless promise: He'll be better than you, one day.

You yawn and close your eyes again.

You're counting on it.

* * *

You must fall asleep, because the next time you open your eyes, it's to a sky more purple than blue, and you can't feel the sun anymore. Nigou has your shirt in his jaws, sleeping. You blink up at the sky, eyes heavy.

You hear Kagami's sneakers squeak against the blacktop - familiar by now. You turn, look. The streetlights aren't on yet; you were asleep for an hour at most and the college kids left.

Kagami is still going and it looks like all of his attention on the court. What would it feel like to have that much fun with basketball? Kagami shines with it, it makes him want to play and play and improve and you don't understand why.

It's only a game, and even an intresting one.

A streak of blue crosses the court, knocks the ball out of Kagami's hands and - shoots.

Midorima makes elegant, perfect shots, time after time. This is nothing like that - it's speed, too fast to take in. It's clean and brutal at the same time. It's familar.

A perfect three pointer.

"Who the hell are you?" Kagami demands.

You blink once, slow and steady. Blue hair. Dark skin. White teeth bared in a grin. For a second you feel oddly betrayed. You can't believe Momoi told him where to find you.

"Aomine." You say.

_What a pain._

"Yo, Hana." Aomine's voice was deeper, and he was taller, more filled out. "Man, you're really here. Satsuki's information network is incredible."

Kagami glanced at you. "You know this asshole, Hana?"

"Aomine Daiki. Strongest of the Generation of Miracles and Kuroko's old light." You say, voice flat and uninterested. You don't miss the way Aomine's shoulders go tight at Kuroko's name.

"What, seriously?" Kagami asks.

Aomine laughs, a sharp unpleasant sound. "Hey Hana," Aomine says, grinning. "Play a game with me!"

"Pass." You say immediately.

Aomine smirk never drops. "You're the same as ever. Worse than Murasakibara."

You wrinkle your nose. "Don't compare me to him." Ew.

He rolls his eyes. "Swear to god, you two are exactly the same."

Both of you pause, stare at each other. For one second you feel the fabric of Teikou's uniform against your skin and you're a year younger.

Before that disastrous game that split Kuroko and Aomine apart, Aomine found you on the rooftop while you skipped class and asked you to play a game with him. But it was different this time - quiet desperation rolled off him, obvious as the color of his hair. He came to you with dark eyes and quiet mouth and you knew this was it. The last moment you had to change things for him.

You could see it in his eyes; the longing, the desire for a challenge. The arrogance around him like a shield. You recognized the look in his eyes, that horrible boredom that asks: Is this all there is?

One game and you could stop his downward spiral. You owed him for Kise. You even liked him, in small doses.

The thing was - you didn't  _know_  if you were better than Aomine. In raw talent you were equal, but Aomine'd played his whole life. He devoted most of his waking hours to playing basketball and practicing and you were limited to the occasional midnight game with Nijimura when neither of you slept.

You need two things to get to the Zone: Talent and love of the game.

Aomine had both.

You very much do not.

Maybe you win. Maybe you lose.

It was a bad day. Your hands felt like stone, your heart a heavy, sharp rock lodged in your chest. You ached somewhere in the back of your head, to the point where you just wanted to lie down and close your eyes forever.

He said: "Please."

And you said no.

Aomine glared at you, frustrated. "Why the hell not?"

"...Too much effort." You said.

Aomine stared at you and you watched his expression change like a light going out inside his eyes. "You're just like the rest of them." He said. "No one even wants to  _try_  anymore. Hah - I guess it doesn't matter in the end. The only one who can beat me is me."

He left you up on the roof, and you felt almost empty watching him walk away.

It's a shame, you think, that he turned out the way he did. But you knew you didn't have it in you to be anyone's pillar of support. Not when you were already crumbling.

"Don't you have practice?" You ask.

Aomine snorts, spins the ball on his pinky almost absently. "When I heard you joined some no name team with Kuroko, I couldn't belive it." He eyes you with a look of anticipation in his eyes. "Though you might be a challenge."

You give him an unimpressed look right back. "Your captain doesn't care?"

He shrugs. The sunlight turns his skin to gold. "I win. That's the only thing that matters."

Victory is the only thing. The Teiko motto. You could skip class after class but it didn't matter so long as you kept up appearances for the schools fought a lot in the first year, bruised your knuckles on the faces of seniors who thought you were easy to intimidate into your "proper place".

You know your place: wherever the fuck you want.

Above average looks, top scores, unending skill at sports, international acclaim as a photographer, wealthy family- you should have been their golden child, the pride of Teikou, their female Akashi. They wanted a soft, smiling girl, delicate and perfumed. They wanted you, blunted.

You were like Akashi - and nothing like Akashi at all. He wore his title as role model like a mantle, did his best to be everything to everyone. It's the difference between the two of you. You didn't have the energy to pretend for a bunch of people who don't matter. Akashi was a bonfire, banked and tamed so people could bask next to him, you were a house fire - just as likely to consume those who stood to close.

"Satsuki told me about your team. This is who you and Kuroko play with?" Aomine glanced at Kagami and scoffs. "What a joke. I'm disappointed, Hana."

"Fucking excuse me?" Kagami glared at Aomine, face to face. "You wanna play, asshole? I'll kick your ass!"

Aomine scoffed. "Please, you're not even on Kise's level. Like you could beat  _me_. I didn't come here for you, anyway."

Quicker than the eye could track, Aomine threw the ball at you. You don't have time to think - compared to Kagami's earlier pass was like comparing a breeze to a hurricane. The ball hits your hand - and your whole arm goes numb.

 _Ow._  You think, as the ball slips from nerveless hands. It bounces across the court. The street lights click on with a quiet hum.

"Hana?" Kagami voice is alarmed.

Aomine doesn't seem surprised. He steps up to you, grabs your wrist and pulls down the back wrist band down. The ugly purple-red of your wrist is obvious in the light. Your wrist is twice the size it normally is.

"Hana, what the fuck is wrong with your wrist?" You don't look up, but you can hear the tightness in Kagami's voice.

It's not really a question, so you don't say anything.

Kagami makes a wordless sound of - rage or helplessness. You can't tell. You watch the trees sway in the wind. Pretend the wrist grasped in Aomine's hand belongs to someone else - it's easy. His grip is gentle, despite the sneer on his face.

He drops your wrist. "You really haven't changed at all." He shook his head and looks at Kagami. "Good luck, asshole. Glad she's not my problem."

"Are- are you not concerned about this at all? I thought she was you miracle freaks friend?"

Aomine laughed. It was sharp and cold and you recognize it from the voice in your head. "We're not friends." He said. "Kise's the only one of us she actually cared about. The rest of us were too much  _effort_."

Your wrist aches. Nigou's ears lie flat, and he puts his cold nose to your neck. It's a point of focus, and you blink back from drifting.

"...Whatever." Kagami's voice is low and serious. "Get lost. I've got a teammate to take care of."

Aomine snorts. "A teammate, huh? It's not like your lame school will hold her for long. Eventually she's just going leave and go somewhere she can get a fucking challenge. You better get used to playing without her while you can."

Kagami's brow draws down.

You don't say anything.

* * *

Coach doesn't take the wrist well - and that's an understatement. The lecture lasts all the way to the hospital and through the wait to see the doctor. You sit next to her and let her. Kuroko radiates quiet, unrelenting judgment beside you.

The doctor examines your wrist - it's badly broken.

Three weeks to heal.

Aida is quiet for a long moment, her mouth a thin line. "There's no way to get it done faster?" She asks. "Hana is our best player. Is there anything...?"

The match with Touou is in two weeks.

You look at your wrist. Think about Aomine's eyes. A band of black and a promise.

Your mouth draws down.

You don't like making a liar of yourself.

The doctor gives Aida a sharp look. "No. Heavy use of the wrist will result in permanent damage. If it was set early enough, it would take less time. It's only because of practicing while injured that it's as bad as it is."

Aida takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry, doctor. Thank you for your help."

The man softens. "Of course, Aida-kun. I know this is hard to hear, but I also know you understand how serious an injury of this type can be." He shakes his head. "You young people and your sports. You think it's life and death, but you have to take care of your bodies. It'll outlive all of your games."

Aida thanks the doctor again and the three of you step outside.

Not before the doctor hands you a bottle of pain killers. You stare at it and swallow, hard.

The rest of the team is outside - the seniors anyway. Hyuuga takes one look at Aida's grim face and sighs.

"I'll talk to her." He says to the group, then takes Aida aside and a low conversation brakes out between them. You watch their dark hair blend together, a low buzz of static in your head.

Koga and Mitobe share a glance and the Mitobe puts his hand on your shoulder.

"Hyuuga will calm her down. Let's go before she remembers you're here."

You nod once. Your face feels plastic, blank.

They seem to have a destination in mind. Koga chatters at Mitobe in front of you. You and Kuroko walk behind in silence.

You flex your fingers, but the anesthesia is working. All you feel is a slight twinge.

The bottle is a stone in your pocket. Heavier than it should be. There are thirty pills the bottle. Enough for a month.

It would be so easy. So  _simple_  -

You have to get rid of them.

Aida will notice if you don't use them. Kuroko will notice. They'll ask why.

Deep breaths. Pretend like you can't feel your stomach roil with nausea - and  _want_.

You can't give the pills to anyone on the team because they'll want to know why you can't keep them.

You're... reluctant to explain.

...You were planing on testing your theory of sleeping next to someone anyway. Plus you need help with Nigou now and a part of you still wants to keep all traces of basketball out of your apartment.

In fact - you already have someone in mind. The two girls who cut your hair, one of them would work fine. Girls worked better for you, because inviting a guy to your would absolutely give them ideas. Plus, they were call girls. They'd be fine with the 'sleeping in your bed' thing. If they weren't, you'd just find someone else.

Say she's your girlfriend, or something.

The plan settles your mind enough to pay attention to your surroundings again. The four of you stopped at an open door to a plain looking hospital room. Koga knocks on the door frame.

"Hey, Kiyoshi! You in here?" Koga calls out.

...Why did that name sound familiar?

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holly shit this is late and shorter than normal but i pulled a muscle in my leg and frankly i'm in too much pain to care


	20. XX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> long time no write

 

* * *

"Come in, come in," Kiyoshi waves the four of you into the hospital room. It's a three person room, but the other two beds are empty. The green curtain parting Kiyoshi's bed from the rest of the room is frog patterned. The room itself is a mess, like a tornado hit. Clothes on the floor, little knick knacks all over the counters, various empty snack bags. The tell tale signs that someone's lived there for a long time. "Finally taking the time to introduce the first years to their poor, forgotten sempai?"

Koganei rolls his eyes. "You've got crumbs on your face."

Kiyoshi blinks and wipes his face. "I just got a new salty crackers from Jiro-san. I'd share it with you, but I don't want to. No snacks for teammates who forget to visit for a month!"

"Don't be like that. You know we're in the tournament right now. We have to train." Koganei looks at you and Kuroko. "This is Kiyoshi Teppei. Weird, but harmless."

You get a look at his brown hair - are realize:  _that_  Kiyoshi. You recognize him, not even from the manga, but from back when you were dating Akashi. One the few opponents Akashi couldn't shake, didn't move.

"I know who you are." You say. Kiyoshi tilts his head, and his smile is hard to read. "You're that guy Murasakibara hates."

Everyone looks at you. What? You remember how much Murasakibara, who didn't care about his opponents, bitched about this guy. You're inclined to like him just for that. Much as you like anyone, anyway.

"Murasakibara as in the generation of miracles Murasakibara? That one? Tall, purple, bored looking?" Konagei says.

"Are there any others?" Two Murasakibaras... the thought is unpleasant.

He studies you, and it feels like being dissected. Then he laughs and the feeling of being put under a microscope dissaper like it never existed in the first place. He holds up a pack of cards. "So you're the new face, huh? The only girl to our little family. Riko must be ecstatic to have another girl on the team. Wanna play a game?"

You look at Kuroko. He gives a minuscule shrug.

"What type of game?" You ask.

Kiyoshi rubs his chin. "How about... goldfish?"

"...Whatever." You move to the bed, pick your way around the trash on the floor in the meantime. "You're kind of a slob."

Kuroko sighs behind you. "Mashiro-san, please mind your manners."

All three of the upperclassmen jump.

"Kuroko! When did you get here?" Koganei demands. "I thought we left all the first years at practice."

You blink, once. The world shivers in the corner of your eyes, Kuroko wavers in and out of focus like a paved road on a hot day. Like he's a ghost.

You feel sick, under the cotton of the drug.

You ignore it and sit on the bed next to Kiyoshi. "He was here the whole time." You say.

Koganei sighs. "You always say that."

"It's always true."

Kuroko bows to Kiyoshi. "Hello, sempai. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Kiyoshi smiles. There are crumbs around his mouth. "You're the phantom sixth man of Teikou, aren't you?"

"...I am." Kuroko glances at you for some reason. You raise your eyebrows at him. The minute twitch of his eyebrows would be a scowl on anyone else.

"That's a pretty fancy nickname." Koganei says. Kuroko shifts but says nothing.

Koganei glances at Kuroko. "Well, it doesn't matter anymore. You're not Teikou, you're Seirin." He claps Kuroko on the shoulder hard enough that Kuroko staggers. "Let's pay a game. Deal me in, Kisyoshi!"

You see take a deep breath out of the corner of your eye, then let it out. His shoulders slump, his hands relax. It looks like he put something heavy down. Like being doused in water after a long time on fire. You can almost see the smoke rising off him.

Kuroko's smile is tiny but present. "Yes. Let's play a game."

You look down at the bed.

Kiyoshi pulls out a pack of cards and a vicious round of goldfish starts.

"Looser buys the snacks!" Kiyoshi says.

"Oh you're going down." Koganei promises. Mitobe gives a silent nod at his side.

* * *

Kiyoshi is weird and likable, and you know why Murasakibara hates his guts. He's upbeat, cheerful and clearly loves basketball. He listens eagerly to what the team's doing.

(You're pretty sure that Kiyoshi is cheating somehow, because when you count the cards in your head, it just doesn't make any sense. It's challenging without being draining. Keeps your mind off the bottle in your pocket.

It's a good enough distraction.)

"Rematch?" You say. You and Kiyoshi tied, somehow. You want to figure out he's cheating.

The two senpai and Kuroko are gone to get drinks as a punishment for losing when the door bursts open.

Kiyoshi jerks and his cards go up in the air. "Holy shit! Oh, uh. Don't repeat that."

You stare at the door, at the person in it, eyes wide.

"Hana, are you okay?" Kise, gold hair a mess, stood in the doorway, chest heaving. "Kurokocchi said... you were in the hospital! What happened? Are you sick? You never get sick! Are you… " He seems to wilt visibly with every word out of his mouth.

You're going to kill Kuroko. The thought is distant, behind the buzzing confusion in your head, like your head is a hive of bees. Your chest feels tight. The cards slip from your loose grip and join Kiyoshi's on the floor.

You stare at Kise.

The silence stretches, and you - don't know what to do. It doesn't seem real; a quiet panic sits at the back of your throat, your chest feels tight. Off the basketball court, under the hospital lights, you study your brother.

Taller. Longer hair, more piercings in each ear. His makeup is a little smudged on the left eye, like he put it on in a hurry. He looks - healthy under the worry on his face. Happy.

It's like the two of you switched lives when you hit highschool - Kise found the passion he longed for, while you haven't had the motivation to even look at a camera in months. You can't even be angry. Ever since he was a kid, he's wanted to love something.

Your mouth falls open, but nothing comes out.

"A friend of yours, Hana-chan?" Kiyoshi breaks the silence.

You jolt like he pushed you, and finally lower your cards. "My brother. Kise Ryouta. What are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

He blinks. "Hanacchi, you're the one in the hospital."

_Oh. Right._

You glance down at your wrist, and than back up quickly; like Kise will disappear if you look away for too long. "I'm fine. Why are you here?"

"Hanacchi - your wrist is broken." Kise shrinks, steps back from the door. His mouth is an unhappy line and you don't know what you said wrong. The bubbling confidence, the glittering smile is nowhere to be seen.

 _I hurt him again_ , you think though you don't know how.

"Where else would I be?" Kise asks.

You don't know what to say - so you say nothing. All you do is hurt him lately.

"Oh my god," His captain stood behind him - Kasa-something? - and scowled at the you and Kiyoshi. You didn't notice him, too distracted by Kise. His eyebrows were almost as impressive as Kagami's. Kasa-whatever's voice is horrified and impressed. "I thought you were an asshole, but you're - you're just  _like that_." He shoves Kise forward, into the room and steps in after him.

"Kasamatsu-senpai!" Kise glared at him, but Kasamatsu just gives him an unimpressed look.

"Look." He says to you. "Kise came over because he was worried. So can you please show him you're fine so we can go back to practice."

The words are coherent, but. You don't understand. You stare at him, and after a moment his face starts to flush.

You almost bristle at Kiyoshi and Kasamatsu, usher them out of the room. It feels to strange to have them here, where Kise is vulnerable.

The only reason you don't is then you'd be alone with Kise; you still have no idea what he wants, no idea why he's here.

For some reason you look at Kiyoshi, like he can explain what you just heard in smaller words.

He smiles and nudges you with his elbow. "That's nice of him, isn't Hana-chan? You should say thank you."

"...Thanks." You say, because you don't know what else to do.

You thought - Kise didn't call you. So you thought he was done. Moved on.

Why is he  _here_?

You clamp your teeth down on the question, and the the tightness in your stomach grows worse.

You swallow. "I'm... fine. Just a broken wrist. No complications. It doesn't even hurt anymore."

Kise forces a smile. "Well - well, that's a relief. Kurokocchi made is sound pretty bad!"

Just like that, the conversation is over. Fuck, how do you talk to people? You've always known you were bad at it, but you also never cared about it before. It was easy with Kise, easy as a three point shot. You've lost the ability to make him laugh, to live in easy quiet.

Even the silence is harsh.

"I got a dog." You offer out of desperation.

He blinks and his shoulders relax a bit. "Really? When? Where is it?"

"...Yesterday. I found him. With Momoi." Was it only yesterday? The past seventy hours felt like a few months. Words stick in your throat like passengers on a too crowded train. "Kuroko has him."

"What's his name?"

"Nigou." You say, carefully picking out the word.

"Number two? Who's the number one?"

"...It's short for Kuroko Number Two. Because. He looks like Kuroko." You say. The name sounds dumber now that Kuroko isn't in front of you to taunt.

Kise laughs. "Really? I'm jealous, have two Kurokos. Can you take care of a dog with your wrist like that? Do you need help?" He hesitates. "I could help you if you -"

Kasamatsu smacks him over the head. "No, you can't. We have practice to do! You can't run around after your friend's dog."

Halfway off the bed, you freeze. Right. You take a deep breath. You can't punch Kise's captain for a love tap. For one thing, your wrist is broken (not that you couldn't take Kasamatsu with one hand). For another, coach would probably kill you for getting kicked from the tournament. Kise didn't even flinch so it wasn't that hard.

You slowly unclench your good hand.

Look up. Find Kiyoshi watching you with unreadable eyes. What does he see?

Do you want to know?

You exhale and put your hand in your pocket, stand all the way up.

"Aww, captain." Kise whines.

You want to ask what changed, but you're... reluctant to lean on this acceptance, because it might shatter under you. So instead you say: "I've already got someone to help me with stuff. Thank you." You add. It sounds weirdly formal.

Kise stops playing with his captain to look at you. His eyes are sharp, a reflective gold mirror. "Momoicchi told me you get along with Kagamicchi. Is he the one helping you?"

You blink. "Kagami? No. He doesn't even like dogs." Why would Momoi tell Kise that?

"Oh, so Kurokocchi?"

Why was Kuroko the next choice? "No. No one from the team." Fuck it. In for a penny, in for a pound.

He blinked. "Do I know them? Do your parents know them?"

"No. I don't think so."

A hit of a frow showed on his face. "I really don't think you should let a stranger into your house, Hanacchi. You can be kinda..." He gestured at you. "Like if someone isn't physically murdering you, it's like you'll let them do anything."

"I broke my wrist getting into a fight." You say, voice dry. "I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, when you want to."

Which. Wasn't wrong.

Maybe he can read that thought on your face, because Kise's frown deepens. "I really think you should let me meet them."

You don't have anyone yet, though.

And then. For some god awful reason, you open your mouth and say: "It's my girlfriend."

It's. your. Girlfriend.

You say.

You know.  _Like a liar_.

Kise and Kasamatsu's jaw both drop. You don't have to look Kiyoshi to feel his eyes on you.

"Like... like a friend who's a girl?" Kise says weakly.

You take a deep breath. You don't like lying, but if you're going to make up with Kise, there's a chance he'll find you in bed with the person you're hiring. What are you going to say?

You can't stand the beat of your own heart? You hired someone to manage your pills, because you can't - you can't do it yourself?

_Yeah right._

(The bottle is cool and smooth under your unbroken hand.

Take your hand out, cross your arms instead.)

"No. Like a girlfriend. Dating." You say with a shrug. Casual, think casual.

"W-who is it?" Kise leaned forward, until only Kasamatsu's grip kept him upright. "When did this happen? How did I not know?"

You lean slightly back. "I met her when I went to the salon. She cut my hair?"

Can't tell him  _where_  you got your haircut.

"So she's older?"

"...Yeah?"

Kise straightens abruptly. "I want to meet her."

It's not a question this time.

Well. You were already playing on introducing her to your parents, in the hopes of fending off the inevitable bodyguard when they find out about your wrist. Or your father's paranoid surveillance sweeps you're not supposed to know exist. Adding Kise to the plan should be fine.

You shrug. "Okay."

Kise stares at you. You stare at him.

"Well?" He crosses his arms. "Call her here."

You blink. "She's working."

"So?"

"Oh my  _god_ ," Kasamatsu says. "Kise, sometimes people are busy. That means they don't have to cater to your whims."

Kise eyes you, before he nods sharply. "Alright. We need to get back to practice." He points at you. "Call me when you set up a time!"

"Okay?" The day is too fast for your brain. The drugs slow you down, make the lights brighter and the colors overwhelming. You feel like your feet can't touch the ground. You feel like your spine is rooted to the earth.

You feel nothing but the cast under your good hand.

Kasamatsu rolls his eyes and pulls Kise out of the room. The door shuts behind him.

You run a hand through your hair and the silence stretches out like a violin string, your last nerve. You wait for the inevitable question, but Kiyoshi only picks up the cards. You watch him.

He looks up and smiles. "Play again?" He asks.

And nothing else.

Your shoulders slump.

"Alright."

You resolve to put this day out of your mind. You're too fucking tired to worry about it now.

* * *

Kuroko comes back with Kagami, Hyuuga and Aida in tow. The coach has a stack of dvds in her arms and a scowl on her face.

She points at you. "Hana, you're forbidden from playing at all this week! That still doesn't get you out of training. Here." She dumps the dvds into your arms. "Past games of Touou and the rest of our opponents! You're going to study them until you have them memorized."

You look at the dvds and at her. "Okay." It's more of a question than anything.

Aida ignores it. "Good. Now shoo! Go home and get a start on those! Don't get into any more fights."

Just like that, you, Kuroko and Kagami are kicked from the room. Kiyoshi pats you on the head before you leave, and you stare at him, startled. You can count the people who treat you like a kid on one hand and have fingers left over.

"Man, what did she even call me here for?" Kagami grumbles. He glances at you. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." You're always fine.

Kagami accepts that with a nod and stretches his arms up. "Man, I'm fucking starving. Let's get something to eat."

He walks off, and you trail a little behind next to Kuroko.

"You just missed Kise," you say, voice flat.

Kuroko tilts his head, face unchanged. "What a shame."

Tch. You shoulder check him, then take your bag and Nigou back from him and drop the subject.

* * *

The three of you wind up in Maji Burger again. A different one from your normal, but all Maji Burgers look the same on the inside. Plastic and the smell of grease. Kagami orders twenty burgers, Kuroko a milkshake.

You're not hungry. You order a box of fries anyway, because if you don't get something, Kagami will force on of his burgers on you anyway.

You freeze. the phone like the vibrations come from the tail of a rattlesnake. No one calls you. Even your parents know that texting is more likely to get a response.

Nijimura.

You narrow your eyes at the phone. Aomine, Kise, Kiyoshi, Nijimura - if Murasakibara or Akashi show up, you won't be held responsible for your actions.

You stare down at the phone like it's a snake.

It keeps ringing, the same impersonal tone it always has.

"Are you not going to answer?" Kuroko asks after a few moments pass.

Wordless, you flip in open and put it to your ear.

"Hana. Are you going to tell me," Nijimura's familiar voice comes through, low and annoyed, "Why did you just pay for a hospital visit?"

"...How did you know that?" You ask.

"Because your father, in his infinite wisdom, put me in charge of managing your money and investments." A sound of glass on glass and a car door shutting in the background and Nijimura sighs. You can almost see him rubbing his forehead the way he used too when the miracles were being particularly obnoxious. "Apparently you don't care if I lose all of your money."

You make a face. "...Okay." That's fair. You care about money only as far as it can get you stuff you want. You don't desire it. Something about being a dead girl walking makes the concept of money foreign to you.

You can't take it with you, so you might as well let Nijimura play with it. He's one of the few people who seems to care about you on a personal level.

"Wait, are you the one who bought that high rise then?" You ask.

An embarrassed silence. "I... might have gotten a little too enthusiastic."

You snort. That's one word for it.

"Who're you talking too?" Kagami asks, mouth full of food. Gross.

"Someone from middle school." You say to him.

Kuroko watches you with narrow eyes. "...I was not aware that Mashiro-san kept in touch with anyone from Teikou."

You snort. "What, like I have to tell you everything?"

"Don't you sass me." Nijimura says. "You went to the hospi-"

"I was talking to Kuroko," you say.

"Kuroko? Oh, right. He goes to school with you. Tell him I said hi."

You roll your eyes. "Kuroko, Nijimura says hi."

"What?" Kuroko's head jerks up, eyes wide.

"What?" Kagami says, startled by Kuroko's reaction. "Who's Nijimura?"

"The former captain of the Teiko basketball team. I wasn't aware that Mashiro-san knew him on a personal level."

"The things you don't know about me could fill a book." You say. "What the hell did you want, anyway?"

Kuroko blinks. "I do not want anything."

"Not you." You say.

"What?" Nijimura asks.

...This is stupid.

You get up from the table, throw down a bill without looking at it. "Hang on." You say into the phone.

"Bye." You say to Kuroko and Kagami. "Got shit to do."

Kuroko blinks and makes to stand up as well. "Do you require help?"

You give him an odd look.

He hesitates for a second, then visibly draws himself up. "Mashiro-san's wrist is broken."

...and?

"Don't you need help getting home?" Kagami asks.

Kuroko nods.

You feel goose bumps spreading over your skin. It's weird to see Kuroko attempt being nice to you, and you're not sure how much you like it.

"No. I don't need your help." You say, because you've got plans for after this and you don't want him coming. He's already proven he's willing to talk to Kise about you.

His hands clench on the cheap Maji burger table, going an even paler white. His mouth purses.

Kagami watches the two of you with dark eyes. For once you can't tell what he's thinking.

"...Thank you, though." You add, your tone turning it into more of a question.

Maybe it's just - you're tired of being angry. You don't have the energy. You feel flat, underneath the false relaxation of the drugs. Like you've been wrung out, like your brain twists upon itself.

Kuroko studies you, then slowly sits down again. "Goodbye, Mashiro-san."

"Yeah. See you tomorrow." Kagami unwraps another burger and takes a bite.

"...yeah." You roll your shoulders and walk out of the restaurant.

"Awkward." Nijimura mutters at your ear. "You're so bad at people. It'd be funny if it wasn't so sad."

The moment broken, you sigh. "Shut up. Come pick me up, I need a ride." Right now the thought of pressing up against strangers on the train makes your skin crawl.

"Yeah, yeah. Tell me where you are then."

Before you leave, something makes you glance over your shoulder. Neither Kagami or Kuroko look after you. Their heads are bowed together over the table, talking in low voices.

Red and blue. There's something about it, the place you left closing naturally.

Maybe you should've skipped the fries. Your stomach feels a little queasy.

* * *

Nijimura shows up in a long black car, and for some reason you're not surprised.

You open the door without waiting for the driver to get out and do it, and you slide in.

Nijimura stares at you, face carefully blank. He looks different - his clothes are clearly better quality and he got a new haircut that brought out the angles of his face, made him look older.

His eyes are the same.

The phone in your hand clicks shut. "So. You're my butler now?"

Nijimura gives you an exasperated glance, and just like that the strange tension breaks. He's the same kid from middle school, no matter how fancy his dress.

"My hate for you," he says, "is bigger than the Tokyo Tower."

You give him half a smile.

He rolls his eyes. "Butler my ass. I'm more like your financial babysitter. Investing, paying rent, paying employees, managing your money. That also means any big purchases you make go through me."

You have employees?

Nijimura glances at your wrist. "What the hell happened? You never get hurt."

You shrug. "I got in a fight."

"I figured that part out." His voice is dry. "That's nothing new. I'm asking what makes this fight different from all of the others."

The sunlight shines weak through the black tinted glass windows, but it's still warm. You sink down in your seat. Contemplating his question. It's your money, and it's not really any of his business.

Nijimura is always honest with you.

"You won't tell my dad." You half ask, half order.

He gives you an unreadable look. His eyes flick down to your wrist. "...Sure."

"I..." You make a face. Why is this so hard? It's like the words are stuck at the back of your throat, like trying to speak around a hand clamping your mouth shut. "I've been having trouble sleeping."

Nijimura waits, and you're relieved. You don't know if you can start again.

You look down at your hands, the unfamiliar cast on them.

"I figured out that I sleep better with someone in the room with me. So." You shrug.

"You used to live with Kise." Nijimura says.

"Yeah. Used to do a lot of things."

You don't say anything about Kise. It's been three months away from him, and one look tells you what you already know; he's grown up.

Grown past you. He might not be happy with you but it's clear he's happy with his life.

Kise is happy, away from you.

You don't want to see that. You're too selfish to deal with it.

Nijimura hesitates. "You and Akashi dated. Does that mean you slept with him too?"

You shrug again. "Sometimes."

After a few moments pass, Nijimura sighs. "You can't just have Kise or any of your friends stay with you?"

You look at him. "Are you volunteering?"

Nijimura drops his drink.

You tilt your head and study him. He's good looking, well dressed, already knows your family. You're friends, probably.

"You're not exactly my type." Nijimura glances down at his stained shirt, calm restored.

Yeah. Your hair isn't red enough.

You already told Kise it was a girl though. Shame.

"I figured." You say with a shrug. "I'm just going to do what any rich kid would. Not like I have to worry about the cost."

"...Hire someone?"

"Yup." You write the address down on the back of the Maji Burger receipt and knock on the partition keeping the driver separated.

It slides open; you hand the diver the address of the corner you got your hair cut.

You look down at the cast on your wrist, face blank. Dark fur obscures your vision when Nigou shoves half way out of the bag, wriggles around and licks your fingers.

What did animals need? You look at the dog and realize how tense your shoulders are.

"I'm pretty sure that's illegal, Hana. Hana?" Nijimura's concern adds another stone to the mountain you feel piling up on your chest.

You can't take care of another living thing. You can barely take care of yourself - you forget to eat and sleep and  _live_. Your breath is shaky and you press the fingertips of your good hand into the cast. It doesn't feel like anything; the medication leaves everything dulled.

...You have to get the bottle out of your possession as soon as possible.

(Every day is a gamble.

A question: Is today the day you give up?

No. Not yet.)

Inhale. Exhale. Feel the numbness inside you spread, feel the pain-killers fill up the inside of your head like spiderwebs.

"I'm fine." You say. Look up, face calm.

You're  _fine_.

You meet Nijimura's eyes without flinching. It's like standing on the other side of a thick glass wall. You see his eyes narrow, the way his hands go tense, but it means nothing.

 _He_  means nothing.

You mean the least of all.

You let yourself fall over, a slow collapse onto your side. You stretch over the seat and . "Wake me up when we get there." You close your eyes.

You hear Nijimura sigh. The shift his expensive clothes. A cool hand touches your forehead. "Okay. It makes sense, in a Hana-ish way. Let's go."

Sleep takes you.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im back bitches! hah i had like four days off from work this month and i was sick for three of them.
> 
> question: if hana had went to hogwarts, what house would she get?


	21. XXI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha ha poor hana
> 
> for the hogwarts thing: pretty much everyone said Hufflepuff, which. Fair. Authorial approval. Hana is a hufflepuff, the worst one in history. Slytherin was second, ravenclaw next, and gryffindor a very very distant fourth.

 

* * *

The red light district is much less crowded in the daytime. You make your way to a familiar streetlight, more on instinct than anything; your feet remember the way. You wandered a lot during the last year at teikou.

The corner where you got your haircut is the same, across from a broken down stip club and a pink neon sign proclaiming 'girls girls girls'' flickering against the blue sky. The alley smells like flat water, left out to long. Everything is washed out.

It's a different time of day, but you find the girls in the same spot - not that they're girls. Both of them are at least ten years older than you. They work in a pair, they told you that night. Two for the price of one. It's safer that way. They look like a pair - same glitter bright clothes, long nails, short skirts. Even their hair is dyed complemetary colors, pink (harsher in color than Momoi and obviously dyed) and purple.

Purple hair has a phone in her hands, and she's staring at it with furrowed brows.

Pink hair spots you first and she nudges the other. "Gotta repeat customer, Ayu."

"Quit it, this is important - oh." She tilts her head. "You gotta problem with the hair cut? We don't do refunds."

You shake your head. "I'm here about something else." You pause. How do you put this? "I need someone to sleep with me. On a regular basis."

Both the hookers stare at you.

"...You're a little young for me." Ayu said.

"Pretty sure that's a crime." Pink hair agrees. "It's a crime, isn't it?"

"Pretty sure prostitution is a crime." You say, voice bored.

Ayu pushes her friend off her without breaking eye contact. "You got a lot of money, kid? You payed a fuck-ton for a simple hair cut."

You shrug, hands in your pockets. "Yeah."

She crosses her arms, phone in one hand, boosting her already normal cleavage almost unconsciously. "I've got this cousin. Nice girl, smart as hell, pretty as a dove. It's just her father is a piece of shit. Made some bad deals with people he had no business dealing with. I told her to get out… but it was too late. That asshole took off, left her to deal with the Yakuza on her own."

"And you want me to help her out." You say.

Ayu's smile is hard. "Seems like you need someone. I ain't gonna do it. Yakuza respect money more than anything else."

She's not wrong.

You shrug, tired. "Fine. Give me the address."

Pink hair makes a sound of surprise. "Man, you're really easy going, huh? Ain't you worried about dealing with Yakuza? God knows everyone else is."

You shrug. "It doesn't matter to me."

Pain doesn't scare you; it's not like you're afraid to die.

Ayu pats down her pocket and comes up with a marker. "I don't have any paper."

You offer up your cast.

Ayu blinks, but writes an address on the cast. "...what happened?"

You shrug again.

Ayu shakes her head. "Whatever. None of my business. My cousin lives in the area. It's not that far. Her Karou is Karou. Tell her Ayu sent you." She glances over her shoulder, down the street as if wary of being watched. "Hurry. I can't get in contact with her anymore. I don't know how long she has."

* * *

The apartment  _is_  close. You walk the winding streets, back alleys so narrow you doubt any cars have ever made it down them. It's a bad area, worse than the main red light streets. Those have to be at least acceptable because that's where most of the business takes place.

Not here. Most apartments are dangerously dilapidated, missing handrails and paint peeling. The smell of uncollected garbage is inescapable.

You're being watched.

There's no one out on the street, but curtains twitch as you move past. You figure out why quickly.

In front of one particular apartment there's four expensive, sleek looking motorcycles. Tacky dragon decals cover the most expensive looking one. You nudge it with a foot. Maybe you should get a motorcylcle.

Something to think about later.

You head up the rickety stairs, to the second landing, jumping over the rotting wood steps. There's a man standing in front of apartment 12, black suited, hair dyed a bright garish red. His stance is wide and his hands are clasped in front of him. The tip of a tattoo curls out from under his sleeve.

Looks like your in the right place. You search through your bag for a moment and come up with a shity beat up juice box. Kagami probably put it in there. After a moment you pop the straw and take a sip.

Pineapple flavor?

Where did he even find weird drinks like this? It's a mystery.

"Scram, Kid." The Yakuza - Red Hair you christen him in your head - sneers down at you. "We're doing business."

You count three knives in the front, poorly concealed. You take another sip, face blank. The taste is growing on you.

Red Hair shifts a little closer. "You fucking deaf, bitch? Clear off!"

You meet his eyes evenly. His breath smells like cigars and his pupils are the size of quarters. Drugged? How to take him down… trip him? Head to the knee and he'd be out for a while. Pretend to leave and come back with a brick? Take the knife carelessly sticking out of his belt?

"Wh-what are you looking at bitch?" Like everyone you look at for too long, his face grows pale.

Yeah, you can take this guy even with your arm in a cast.

After a second you sigh. No, can't do that. You promised you wouldn't fight. "Move." You say, voice bored.

"What?"

You take a step forward, put yourself nearly chest to chest with him. You tilt your head. "Get. Out. Of. My. Way. I have business."

He stares down at you, face pale. "Y-you a messenger?"

A messenger? "That's none of your business."

He's not listening, nodding to himself. "Right, right. No way a kid who looks like you not ain't of us. You got something for Ookabe-san?"

You look down at your clothes. Red tank top, black basketball shorts, large black hoodie. Nothing you're wearing screams Yakuza messenger. But ...sure, why not. "Still none of your business."

He holds up his hands. "Right, right, sorry kid. Too big for small fry like myself." He opened the door and bowed to you. "Ookabe-san is inside."

You breeze past Red Hair without looking back. You have no idea what he's babbling about, but you're inside and that's what matters to you.

It's a one room affair with worn wallpaper and ragged carpet. It's a mess, honestly. Glass and dirt and potted plants shards litter the floor. Under all the mess, you can tell it was well cared for. Little figurines lined most of the shelves, nearly all of them smashed at this point. The only unbroken one is a happy looking glass shiba dog.

There are three people standing in the middle of the room, three men, one with a black goatee, one with a bright green shirt, and one with a vicious looking scar on his face, bisecting the corner of his mouth.

There was a girl kneeling by the remains of a splintered table. Karou, probaly?

The Yakuza with the goatee glared at you. "What the fuck? Who the hell are you? What the fuck does that idiot think guard the door means anyway?"

You take another sip of the juice, ignore the yakuza's rant. You look at the girl on the ground. Pretty, enough that you wouldn't mind working with her as a model. About seventeen or eighteen, dark, dark blue hair down to her shoulders in a flattering cut that framed her heart shaped face. You wonder if Ayu cut her hair too. "You Karou?"

The girl blinks. "Y-yes?"

"Don't fucking ignore me!"

"Got an offer for you." You say.

The girl glances at the yakuza. "U-um. Like a job?"

The Yakuza grows and makes a grab for your collar. You take one step back, let him sail past you. Rude. "Do you mind? I'm trying to make a deal here. Could you call off your dog?" You ask the eldest yakuza - Scarface. Ookabe?

Scarface studies you. "Aki, knock it off."

"But Ookabe-nii, she just -"

Scarface only has too look at Aki to reduce him to a muttering sulk. "Relax, kid. She's not someone you can take. You ain't Yakuza, are you girl?"

"Nope." You pop the end of the word. Scarface gives off the impression of a large cat, patiently waiting for it's prey to make a fatal mistake. There's an odd shape under his jacket. A gun, maybe? This guy might actually be a challenge.

"We have business with this girl. Whatever yours is, it'll have to wait." Scarface says. "Her old man owes us a lot of money, and we intend to collect in full."

Karou flinches. "I already told you, I have no idea where he went! He just disappeared."

Aki sneered. "Then you just have to pay with your body, bitch."

Hmm. This is getting annoying. You chew on the straw, other hand in your pocket.

You contemplate just leaving and finding someone else. But then you'd have to search and find someone who's good at cutting hair, and honestly, you just can't be bothered.

"Karou, can you cut hair?" You ask before you forget.

THe girl blinks. "Yes? My cousin taught me some."

Good enough. You already walked all the way here, after all. It seems like a paint to go anywhere else. "Alright. Hey," you say to Scarface. "How much does she owe?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Thirty thousand dollars."

You nod and grope around in your pocket for the wallet you took off Nijimura because you don't carry cash and you doubt the Yakuza take credit. Scarface tenses, but you ignore him and pull out the wallet. It's a nice in brown leather and even stitching. The Mashiro company logo is stitched in discreet black on the side.

You pull out a couple bills, raise your eyebrow at the numbers on them, and hold it out. "Keep the change."

Scarface stares at you, than slowly takes the money and counts it out. "...This is fifty thousand."

Aki makes a strangled noise.

Right? Who carries around that much money with them? Maybe you should talk to Nijimura about his stupid habits. It's just _asking_ to be robbed.

"Alright. Pack it up boys." Scarface waves his underlings out. He gives you a glance. "You got a name, kid?"

"That's not really any of your business." You say.

Scarface nodds, unsprised. "Fair enough."

With that he's gone, and it's just you and Karou in a ruined apartment.

You brush some of the splinters away from the table and sit down across from her. She follows your movements like a rabbit confronted by a hunting dog. She wets her lips. "What… what did you want?"

"Like I said." You shrug. "I wanted to offer you a job. Ayu sent me because she thought you could use the money. And a rescue?" You add as an afterthought. "I need a bed warmer, basically. The job comes with free room and food, with a ten thousand dollar a month salary. Two month minimum requirement, while this," you gesture at your cast. "Is healing."

Karou is pale. "And if I refuse?"

You shrug. "Than I find someone else. But," You nudge a bit of the table splinters out of the way. "It beats staying here."

Her hands are white knuckled on her knees. Her head is bowed. You can't see her face. After a long moment, she exhales and looks up. Her mouth is set with determination. "I have nothing to lose, do I? If Ayu can do it, so can I. I accept your offer."

Nice. Fake girlfriend get.

You nod and flip open your phone. "Alright. Grab what you need. We have to take you shopping." You say, eyeing her clothes. Nice, but clearly hand me downs. Your father would throw a fit. "Also, how are you with dogs?"

She blinks. "What, we're going now? But I - um. I'm okay with them? No allergies or anything."

Perfect. 

* * *

The car is oddly quiet. You ignored the hard stare of Nijimura and the awkward covert glances of Karou if favor of staring out the window. Nigou sniffs at Karou's hand barks once and runs over the seat to settle in your lap. You pet him.

"I can't believe you made a deal with the Yakuza." Nijimura says. "I don't know why anyone lets you out of the house."

"I own the building, thanks to you. It's not like they can stop me from going out. Also," You pull out the wallet. "You carry way too much money on you."

Nijimura catches the wallet - and rolls his eyes. "That money was from your dad. He said it was your monthly allowance. He gave it to me because I was heading to you anyway."

You frown. "I have an allowance?"

Nijimura makes a disgusted sound. "Never mind. Not like you ever buy anything anyway. "

"Um." Karou spoke up for the first time. "How… did you know I was in trouble?"

Nijimura glares at you. "She didn't explain anything, did she?"

The girl sat as neatly in the expensive car, but you can tell she's uneasy about it. "Not really."

"Yeah. Better get used to that. Hana's always been like this." He reaches out and scuffs up your hair. You let him.

"Hey. I tell people what I want them to know." You say.

"Hana… is that your name?" The girl asks.

Nijimura freezes. He turns slowly to look at you. You studiously stare out the window.

Okay. He might have a teeny tiny point.

But only a small one.

Nijimura takes the time to fill Karou in on the way to your apartment. You need to get her some clothes, but you've had your fill of humanity for the day. the thought of trying to go to one of your father's favorite stores made your skin break out in hives.

Finally, Nijimura flicks your forehead and looks at the girl. "This is Mashiro Hana." The girl flicks her eyes between the two of you. "Yeah,  _that_  Mashiro."

"Oh." Karou says, voice high and thin. "No wonder she has that much money just lying around."

"Tell me about it." He glances at you, than at her. "You know you don't have to do this. Hana's not the type to force people."

You can feel her attention flick to you. You say nothing; just keep looking out the window. It's not as bad when there are people in the car with you. Less disconnect from the mass of humanity outside. You like it.

"I know." She says, voice barely audible. "I don't… if she didn't come. It would've been - bad. It would've been bad."

A long silence. The creak of leather when Nijimura leans back against the seats. A light ruffle to your hair. "Well. I know a little something about that too."

You close your eyes. 

* * *

Nijimura drops the two of you off with a last warning look to you. "I'll have a contract drawn up by the morning. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. And Hana?"

You raise a hand unenthusiastically. God you're tired. Karou is just a little taller than you are. Makes for a good resting post. She shifts, body language screaming discomfort.

Ah, you miss Akashi. He never complained when you treated him like furniture.

Nijimura rolls his eyes. "Play nice."

"I'm always nice." You say.

"No. You're not."

No, you're not.

One last glance and he climbs back into the car and it rolls away smoothly in the to trafic. You watch until it disappears around the corner. Maybe part of you wants to go with it. Nijimura is easy to be around. He takes everything in stride. Probably why Akashi likes him so much.

With a sigh, you push off Karou and walk into the lobby. The staff straighten as you pass, and the desk workers bow low. Karou makes a low squeak but follows after you, so close you'd probably trip over her if you took a step back. You head into the elevator located in a small alcove behind the front desk and step inside. You hit the button. There's only one.

There's only one stop.

Penthouse suite.

Karou is quiet. Nigou pokes his head curiously out of your bag, and takes in the new scents. Does he remember being here? How far do dogs memories go?

"Uhm." Karous says.

YOu wait, but that's all she says. A glance over your shoulder finds her staring hard at the ground.

"... yeah. What." You're exhausted. You don't want to speak, you want to burrow into bed and not get up until god or Nijimura makes you.

She flinches and looks up. Meets your eyes. Flushes and looks back down at the white carpet on the elevator floor. "H-how do you want me to address you?"

You blink once, slowly. "Hana."

"That seems very… informal."

"As far as anyone else knows, you're my girlfriend." The door hissed open and you stepped out. "Besides. No one calls me by my last name."

She follows a step behind you, taking the expensive, but tasteful, hallway. "Why?"

"I have no idea." You unlock the door with a swipe of your card and a fingerprint scan. Need to get her added to security, you guess. You glance over your shoulder. "Go take a shower. There should be extra clothes in the hall closet. First bedroom on the left is mine."

Her hands go white on the strap of her bag. "You - you want to. Um. Already?"

You put Nigou's bag down and he hops out and begins to sniff the hallway curiously. "It's almost ten. I'm fucking exhausted. MIght as well."

Karou sets her shoulders after a long moment of quiet. "Right. Right. This is my job now, and I'm going to do my best." She bows formaly and makes her way to the bathroom, hair streaming behind her.

You raise an eyebrow. "Good… luck with that, I guess?"

She's already gone.

* * *

You listen to the shower run with your eyes closed, sprawled out on the bed. You got halfway through changing clothes before you just… shut down. Today was long - one of the longest days you've had since being alive.

You're drained. There's nothing left but a quiet cold and a desire to never touch another living thing again. You feel the soft cotton sheets against your skin, shirt off, bra half undone. Nigou is sniffing something in the other room. You hear the click of his claws on the kitchen tile.

…Bringing Karou back is the right decision. With another person in, the apartment doesn't feel so empty. Cold. It sends you spiraling back to middle school, back before Kise got onto the teiko team. The two of you, in a tiny bubble all of your own.

Kise came to the hospital.

That's the part that confuses you the most. People don't come back for you. Not really - not in this life or the last.

So why…

There's a tremulous feeling bubbling in your stomach, down in the very pit. You can't think about it directly without shaking hands, have to look at it sideways like trying to stare at the sun.

So you don't. You push it to the back of your mind, the way you do with everything you don't understand. Right here, right now, you exist.

The bathroom door opens, lets out a cloud of steam. You keep your eyes shut, listen to Karou pad across the carpet on nearly silent feet. Her shadow falls across you.

A creak of the bed. It dips under you.

You almost don't notice the brush of warmth across your lips.

Almost. You slowly open your eyes, mind utterly blank.

Karou is over you, wearing nothing at all. Her hair falls around you, still damp. Tiny scars litter her skin, proof of a life lived. Something sweet drifts through the air. Her eyes are dark, bottomless.

"I've never…" She shifts until she sits across your thighs and slowly presses a hand to your stomach, nails gently trailing, and you're abruptly aware of your own skin in a way you never have been before. "I've never been with anyone. So, please forgive me if it's not what you're expecting. I'm a quick study."

There's something electric and startled in the back of your mind; it can't quite figure out how you got here.

You sympathize. You have no idea how you got here either. Maybe it's the confusion that stills your body, lets her kiss you again, and again.

She pulls back and looks at you. The only light is warm yellow, spilling out of the bathroom's open door, and it paints her in a soft golden glow. It feels like your brain is slowly drowning in honey, too thick to swim. You're submerged in sweet yellow light. You feel… slow.

For once in your new life, your brain shuts down, shuts  _up_. You're too confused to enjoy it.

She takes a deep breath, slides her hand up your body, and stops just under your exposed bra. Just under the band.

_Ding dong._

Karou jumps, looks away. Your brain kickstarts.

The doorbell.

Nijimura? God you hope so. He might be able to understand what the fuck just happened.

Karou glances over her shoulder. "Should I…"

"I'll get it." You say, sitting up. She squeaks, all but topples off you. You're off the bed in record time, and out the door. You hesitate, look back over your shoulder.

She looks small and lost sitting in the middle of the large bed. Normally you'd leave without a second thought, but… you're the reason she looks like that. You have to take responsibility.

You detour to the closet, snag one of the robes there, and toss it to the bed. "Get dressed." You say. "We… have to talk about some stuff."

Nijimura might have more than a small point.

"A-alright?"

You close the bedroom door behind you with a quiet click. Then, and only then do you sag against it, head in hands. You feel like you're on fire. You feel like your heart suffered some kind of blow. You… don't know how to describe this feeling.

Your old body never did this. You had a few romances, but never anything with passion. Sex was nice, but not necessary for life. Neither was romance.

Should you blame your new body? It's already so much more that what you had, why not this too? Being a teenager again doesn't help at all. You're flushed. YOur face is hot. Burning, burning, heat in your stomach and lower still.

The doorbell rings again.

You lurch away up and make a beeline for the door, nearly vaulting over the couch. You throw it open. "Nijimura, you're not going to believe - you're not Nijimura."

Cream skin. Low cut top. Perfect makeup. Pink hair.

You stare. "Momoi?"

* * *

Momoi smiles and holds up a bag. "Sorry. I know it's late, but I just got a message from Kise thirty minutes ago." She glanced at your wrist. "I'm sorry I didn't notice your injury earlier, Hana-chan. I would have taken you straight to the hospital. I brought some food." She says. "God knows you don't eat enough when you're  _not_  injured."

You stand by the open door, and you can't think of anything to say. Your brain is an overclocked computer. Too much input. Shutdown imminent. You stare at her, and maybe it's the pills wearing off, but you can feel a pressure bulding up in the back of your head. Kise called her?  _Why?_

She steps past you into your home for the second time is as many days You step aside without thinking about it.

She frowns and steps forward, presses one cool hand into your forehead. "You're all red, Hana. Are you sick? Also," She glances down at your clothes – or your lack of them, and then back up very quickly, a little red herself. "You shouldn't answer the door in only your underwear. I couldn't say what would happen to you if I was someone with bad intentions. Anyway -" She contiues past you and you drift after her like a leaf caught in the wake a some titanic ship.

"Kise also said something about you growing up? He  _was_  crying, so it was hard to understand, but I have to admit it's sort of a bad joke to tell." She snorts and drops a bag on the couch. Nigou wanders up and gives a happy bark at the sight of her. "Hello, puppy. You're just the cutest little thing? Tiny Tetsu-kun. You're keeping him? Anyway, like I was saying, there's no way you have a  _girlfriend_  -"

Like Karou was summoned, she appears out of the bedroom. "Hana?"

Momoi stops dead. The other bag slips from her hand and clatters to the floor. Various convenice store foods, simple and esy to eat with one hand, spill across the floor.

You rub your forehead. God, you just want to  _sleep_. Is that too much to ask? "Karou, this is Momoi. A friend from middle school. Momoi this Karou. My girlfriend."

Karou smiles, and it lights up her whole face. "It's nice to meet you, Momoi-san."

Momoi continues to stare

Karou's smile slowly fades and she looks at you. "Is she… okay?"

You shake your head the tiniest bit, than you step forward and wave your hand in front of Momoi's face. "Momoi? You okay?"

"G-girlfriend?" Momoi whirled to look at you. "But - you're not gay!"

You raise an eyebrow. Momoi didn't have any problems with gay people that you know of. She hung out with Kise pretty often after all. Unless it's because you could be attracted to her personally?

"I mean, you never dated anyone but guys as far as I know." And knowing was Momoi's specialty. That made more sense. Of course she'll be upset over a gap in her info network. "Only Akashi and Kise! You got confessions from girls in middle school but you always turned them down, even that one girl from the newspaper club down!"

Think about heat and a sweet scent, an awareness of your own skin. You shrug. "It's news to me too." You pause. "Didn't know you heard about me being asked out." She didn't normally keep track of anything non-basketball related. The confession you got from Shimada was the first, but it wasn't the last.

Momoi freezes again. "I… it was…"

Karou steps forward, puts an arm around your waist. She has a couple inches on you and you can still feel the heat of her skin through the robe. "You were pretty popular in school, Hana? Careful, I might get jealous."

You roll your eyes, but allow it. "They were just kids. They loved the idea of me, but every single one of them took off after five minutes with me." You're not a nice person, and you don't have time to coddle some brat's crush. You're rich and talented and pretty good looking. Of course you go confessions. You look at Momoi again. "Yeah. I got confessions, but there wasn't really anyone I was interested in. Akashi and me was more of a friends with benefits thing." Akashi got a shield, and you got something to do for a while. You shrug. "I'm probably bi."

"Oh. I… have to go." Momoi took a step - and stumbled over the bag on the floor.

You move, catch her on pure reflex. "Careful." You say.

Momoi shifts, and her hand finds the bare skin above your bra. Your left hand is on her shoulder, your right holding her wrist loosely. She jerks back as if burned. "I have to go!" She says again, a rush of words. "Nice to meet you Karou-san, bye Hana, feel better soon!"

With that she performs a fade away worthy of Aomine on the court, and she's gone before you can get a word out.

You stare at the closed front door. "...Bye?"

Karou glances at you, than at the door. "A friend, huh?"

Shake your head, blink at her. "Yeah. A good one."

Karou meets your eyes, gaze unreadable. It's like being peeled open layer by layer, until she smiles and shakes her head. "Well. For now I have a job to do. Shall we continue?"

A flush of heat. You take a deep breath, push Momoi's behavior into the deal with later (or possibly never) pile. "About that."

You have some clarification to do.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a fun chapter to write. Hana gets hit by hormones for possibly the first time ever, nijimura despairs, Karou is secretly the main character of a shounen manga isnide the body of a shoujou character, and momoi is very flustered.
> 
> I found Hana's theme song: downhill by lincoln. every damn verse just fits hana so much like:I was born into the world on a silken cloud/And I got bored of the world before I hit the ground and you're the one who taught me to be brave/ I've never spent a moment loving anyone but you/ And maybe that's just something that people say/ But I hope that you know it's the truth referring to kise
> 
> question: if hana had to pilot a mech, pacific rim style, who (besides kise) would be her co-pilot?
> 
> NEXT GAME: possible interlude? idk haven't decided who yet


	22. XXII

You wake with a head light as a feather. It takes you moment to place the feeling, not so much pain as an absence of pain. Your head doesn't hurt; the low grade ache is gone.

The scent of something drifts from the kitchen. You don't move, but your mouth scrunches up. Your stomach actually doesn't turn over at the thought of food. Who knew being well rested was the secret to not feeling like you're dying?

You live alone. So who...

Ah. Fake girlfriend. Karou or something.

You turn and glance at the clock. Nine am. You're late for school, but that's a distant concern. You just got done sleeping for a full eight hours.

Plan scusess?

The click of claws on the floor distracts you. A thump as Nigou jumps up onto the bed. You watch him sniff your hand and then give it a happy lick. You scratch his ears. He barks once, tail wagging.

Time to get up. For once it's not crippling lack of fucks to give that makes you want to get up, but the fact that you're... content. Content to just exist right now. It's hard to think of the last time you felt like this. Maybe you never have.

You sit up eventually, because you have to do it. Have to go to practice and school, and there's breakfast waiting. You pick Nigou up and carry him into the kitchen with your good hand.

Karou is prettier in the light of the sun. The large windows overlooking the city give off enough natural light that she hasn't bothered to turn the electric ones on and it makes her glow, gives her dark hair a halo of shine that makes your hands itch.

You wish you had your camera.

Karou turns and smiles at you. "Good morning, Hana-chan. I made some breakfast. You're late for school though. Will you have time for breakfast?"

You blink once, slow. You can't remember the last time someone was happy to see you. Bizarre. Even Kagami always seems kind of annoyed with you. "I don't care about school." You say with a miniscule shrug.

"That's not good, Hana-chan. YOu have to get a good education if you want to get anywhere in life. I wish I completed high school." She turns the stove off with a click, picks up the last of the food and puts it down on the table. Karou relaxed a lot more when you outlined clearly what you wanted her to do. Which was basically sleep in the same bed for at least five days out of the week, carry and administer your pills, and take care of Nigou until your wrist is better.

You follow her lead and sit down. Feels weird to be having breakfast instead of just rolling out the door whenever you scrape up the will.

"You didn't finish high school?" You ask.

She smiles, but it seems wistful. "My dad wasn't... the best. I had to drop out and start working after the first year. It was fun while it lasted though. I like learning about new things."

"Huh." You take a bit of the food - and it's good. Karou is a good cook.

The two of you eat in silence. It's not a bad one, and you're glad that you picked someone who doesn't have to speak everything they think out loud.

After you finish you look at her. "Do you want to finish school?"

She blinks. "I- well. If I could, I would. One of my regrets is not finishing, but it's kind of late for that now."

You nod. "Alright."

"Alright what?"

"I'll set it up." you say.

She stares at you with wide eyes, clutching an washed dish to her chest like a shield. "What?"

But you're no longer paying attention to her. You flip out your phone and send a quick text to Nijimura, because he runs your life apparently. He'll set it up.

"Nijimura should call with the details in a few hours." You say. You look up to find her staring at you with wide eyes.

"Won't that... interfere with my job for you?" She says.

You shrug. You're just a job to her. She can have a life outside you. "Not really? You can do whatever you want during the day." Ah. Speaking of, you send off another text to Nijimura about having a card set up for Karou. She needs to get some things for her wardrobe. Can't have her wearing rags around your apartment.

The clock ticks closer to nine-thirty. You sigh. Probably should go back to school. You scarf down the food, pet Nigou, and head back to your room to change into your uniform. You leave Karou standing in that pool of light in the kitchen, mouth still opening and closing.

* * *

You arrive to in the middle of your fourth class. The teacher gives you are hard stare. You meet his eyes until he looks away. You snort and take your seat, ignoring the wave of whispers that follows you, the eyes on your cast. Your skin is thick enough to withstand pretty much anything these kids throw at you.

What sort of rumor will be floating around by the end of the day?

There are two gazes that are harder to ignore. Kagami and Kuroko's eyes burn into the back of your neck. You manage them by ignoring their existence. If they have a problem they can talk to you.

It lasts until lunch time.

Kagami drags his chair over to your desk with a scrape. "So. It's going to take you three weeks to heal?" He looks at your wrist.

You roll your eyes and prop your bag up on the desk, between you all of his stupid food.

"Kagami-kun is correct." Kuroko says. You take a petty solace in the way Kagami almost drops his food in surprise. Hah. Serves him right.

A flash of color in your bag takes you by surprise. Another attempt at putting rotten food in it? No, you haven't even put your bag down today and there was nothing in it this morning. You open it up.

An box innocent wrapped in dark pink cloth.

You narrow your eyes at it. What the hell?

Kagami leans over to look in your bag. "Wow. This is the first time i've seen you bring a lunch to school hana. What gives?"

A lunch? Cautious, you take it out and unwrap it. You open the box and blink. The smell actually makes your stomach twist in hunger. You can't remember the last time you wanted to east something. Another, stranger attempt at catching your attention? You still have no idea who has access to your bag.

Kagami whistles. "Did you make that Hana?"

"No." You say.

"Your mom or dad?" Kagami leans forward. "Hey, let me have a taste."

"No." You stab your chopsticks into the desk just milimeeters from his Kagami's thieving hands. "And also no. Eat your own food."

"Kagami-kun is a glutton." Kuroko notes.

"Shameless." You say.

"Aw, comon. Why is it you guys only team up when you're picking on me?" Kagami whines.

"I have no idea what Kagami-kun is talking about. Mashiro-san and I always get along."

Even you look at Kuroko sideways at that massive lie. He takes a placid sib of his juice box.

"Riiiight." Kagami shakes his head. "Whatever, who made your lunch? You didn't buy it anywhere."

Karou.

She must have put a lunch in your bag before you left. You don't… know how to feel about this. There's nothing in her job description that says she has to feed you.

"Girlfriend." YOu say.

Kuroko drops his juice. The straw pops out and juice sprays all over Kagami. He stares at you with wide eyes.

"What the fuck kuroko?" Kagami demands. "What the hell - wait. Girlfriend? As in - dating?"

You break apart the chopsticks and take a bite of the rolled eggs.

Petty good.

* * *

You can't do much at practice, but Aida never lets up. Drill after drill, mile after mile, you lose yourself in the rhythm of time passing. You eat and sleep better than you ever have before. The team shifts around you. Kagami keeps improving.

You watch him make another basket against the third years and know it's not enough. You glance down at your cast. The wrist no longer hurts. Maybe it's because your body heals like it does everything else: perfectly. Better than everyone else could be, or hope to be.

maybe it's because you're sleeping regularly for the first time in... ever. You can't remember the last time you didn't wake up with a slow poison of your own heart in your ears, the desperate wish for silence under your tongue, a hollow pit under your breast bone. You feels steady.

How long will it last? Nothing good ever does. You're busy waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Three weeks and it does. The semi finals arrives and with it, the match against Aomine.

Kuroko materialized by your side, a quiet shadow while the two of you watch Kagami make basket after basket, trying and failing to burn off his nervous energy.

"Kagami-kun is dedicated." Kuroko says after a while.

You shrug. Dedication doesn't matter. He's not... enough. Kagami works until he's shaking and exhausted, pushes himself harder than anyone on the team, even Kuroko, and he's still...

Aomine is better than him. It's just fact.

You compare the two of them in your head and nothing Kagami does makes an impact.

You and Kuroko watch and neither of you mention the cast still on your wrist. Aomine isn't' the type of player you can take with a handicap like that.

Coach might not even let you play. The doctor said three months after all.

You don't... want to play. Aomine is a fire on the court. He's a black hole, sucks people in, crushes them in his orbit, and you still dream about the matches you watched in teikou, the first time he truly began to shine. A catalyst for the rest of the Generation.

You could've been one of them. Thing was, there was a reason beyond basketball you refused to play Aomine at all.

This body doesn't have many limits. You cling to the ones you do have like the last steady thing in the middle of the world crumbling around you. If you forget your limits, or go beyond them, you understand there wouldn't be any coming back down. No reset button, no refresh. Push your body to the limits it craves and you'd stop having limits at all. Infinite potential. Maybe you'd stop being human.

Except deep down inside you, you know there's only so much of you. Everyday chips you down the tiniest bit more. You could run a marathon, swim to america, fight endlessly and still not be exhausted. Physically, anyway.

You only have a few limits and one of them is will. Unlike other people, you only have so much of it.

Facing Aomine will be different. You could blow through enough willpower for three years in one single half hour.

You think about the way you flexed your wrist with barely a twinge this morning. Think about telling Kuroko that you can play.

Keep your mouth shut.

Selfishness.

* * *

The morning of the tournament looks down on a Seirin buzzing with energy. The upperclassmen are talking in hushed tones. The freshmen have caught on to some of their nerves and started fidgeting.

Kagami has bags under his eyes again.

Kuroko is much the same.

It feels strange to look at them and know you were the one who slept the easiest.

Kagami tapps his fingers nervously on his thigh. He stares up at the stadium. "Tell me about Aomine again."

"Kagami-kun, there's nothing new I can tell you." Kuroko says. He's pale, even by normal standards. "Aomine is the ace of the Generation of miracles. The first and best of us."

You tune them out in favour of feeling the vibrations the bus sends through your bones. The world outside is a blur of color.

Kagami catches your attention.

"What?" You ask.

"I know what Kuroko thinks, but what about you? You never said anything." Kagami's fingers tap faster. "Do you think you can beat this guy?"

"I'm not playing."

"Humor me." Kagami says.

"Yeah, are like, possessed or something?" Kagami asks. "Do you have a fever? Are you even human enough to get sick?"

Hyuuga smirks. "So even you have things you aren't confident about huh?"

You roll your eyes. Yes, you're human. Such shock. Much awe. "You asked."

"I thought you'd just say of course like normal!" Kagami snaps. He looks sicker than ever.

Why do you even bother?

A hand came out of nowhere and knocks him on the head. "Quit fretting," Aida commands. "We'll have to take it as it comes."

The first challenge doesn't come on the court - but from the first step into the stadium. Thousands of people have come to see them, but it's deadly quiet. Eearrie.

It's the sense of pressure radiating from the other team. There, sitting on the opposite bench is Aomine, arms on knees, chin in hands. He looks like some ancient king waiting for The kid you can never remember the name of shrinks under the weight of Aomine's regard. He falls behind you, face pale and hands shaking. You meet Aomine's eyes.

Blue and sharp, and you want to reach out and take the fire in them for your own. Envy coats your throat. How can he burn without running out of self?

(Kuroko is the same. Kagami. The rest of Seirin. They want so much.

It must be exhausting. You're drained just looking at them.

It's just a game.)

You sigh and look over at the coach. Let the

Aida's mouth is pursed. She shakes her head. "Looks like they're taking this seriously."

You shift. A flash of pink among the white uniforms.

Momoi.

You haven't spoken to her in three weeks. You don't know - for a heart beat all you can think of is the quiet look of shock on her face just before she leaves your apartment. Your rub your chest, just above your heart, with a frown.

Then she looks up and time goes strange again. She doesn't see you. You watch her turn back to the boy at her side, older, dark hair, glasses. She says something and he tilts his head down to look at her. She smiles.

Pain.

You blink and glance down to find your hands clenched, sending a twinge of pain through your broken wrist. Guess it's not fully healed yet. Glance up again to find Momoi nowhere in sight. You don't have time to be dissapointed.

"Hana-chan?" A soft touch on your shoulder.

You flinch.

Momoi stares at you and you stare back.

"Sorry." You say after the silence stretches out. Your heart is too loud inside your head. This might be the first time you've been startled by anyone. It's hard to sneak up on you - too much time spent paying attention to the world around you through a lense, to much time watching your own back. Are you losing your touch after so long away from a camera?

Immediately you cast out your senses for Kuroko.

There. Standing in the midst of the team, behind Kagami is a glimpse of ice blue. Something inside you relaxes. Good.

If it's not you losing your touch, then why can Momoi sneak up on you?

At last, Momoi smiles. "I just wanted to apologise for running off like that last time. I was a little shocked." She wrapped her arm around yours like you were some sort of victorian gentleman.

Shocked about what? You tilt your head, but decide against asking. Momoi wasn't exactly shy. if she wants you to know, she'll tell you. "It's fine."

"How is Karou?" She asks, and you can feel her nails on your skin. Not a threat, just an … awareness. "I don't want her to think badly of me. I was rude and didn't even stay to say goodbye."

You shrug. "She was a little... weird after."

"Weird how?"

"I dunno. She kept looking at me funny."

Momoi sighs. "Hana-chan, of course she did. No one wants someone not related to them calling on their girlfriend or boyfriend that late at night. Especially if they're younger or better looking or have a superior body. Jealousy can be an ugly thing." She gestures down to herself in a way that seems to convey 'look how amazing my body is in comparison to hers'.

You glance down at Momoi's body. Then you shake your head like clearing water from it. "I don't think that's what it was." You say. It's not like Karou is in love with you. Maybe she's worried about being out of a job or something. Being kicked out like that would be distressing.

Momoi smile has a satisfied edge when she leans in, pressing her chest against your arm, getting close enough to nearly whisper in your ear. "Well, I don't know her that well. You'd understand her better, Hana-chan."

You tilt her head towards her, almost against your will. The smell of her shampo fills the space between you. You don't know what to say, and Momoi seems content to just hang from your arm.

The sense of pressure increases. You don't look over at the other side of the court, but Momoi sighs in you ear.

"He's been like that all week. Looking forward to this." She touches the wrist you broke gently. "Will you be...?"

Aomine's problems are Aomine's problems. Nothing to do with you. "Fishing for information already?"

Momoi drops the wide eyed concern and huffs at you. She doesn't let go of your arm. "Well, you can't blame me for trying. I also do want to know if you're going to be okay Hana. Not everything is about basketball."

Not everything, but you're on Seirin and she's on Teikou and that means she's not going to go easy on you. How many strategies has she developed depending on weather or not you can play? Even Akashi knew Momoi was the best at strategizing and information gathering. She's just as obese with basketball as Aomine; she's just better at hiding it.

You shake your head, more amused than anything. "No mercy, Momoi?"

She laughs. "OF course not. I am the best after all - and that means no mercy for anyone on the opposite side.

"Well now, who's your friend Momoi-chan?" The tall, older boy with glasses lopes across the court. His mouth is pulled into a smile you instinctively dislike. Something about feels smooth as glass, and a million times more opaque. He give you a jaunty little wave. "Heya."

You raise a hand. "Yo."

Momoi glances at the clock above the court. "I'm sorry Imayoshi-sempai. I didn't realize we were starting so soon. I'll go and get everything ready." She turns to you, still holding your arm. "Hana-chan, you know I won't go easy on you right?"

You roll your eyes. "Like I ever expected it."

She smiles. "That's why you're my favorite." She brushes the hair out of her eyes with a flick of her slender wrist and swans off into the mess of boys. They part around her like a school of fish around a dolphin.

You feel the eyes of the captain on you. Of course you know who he is. You've never met him, but you've met a thousand like him. You know what a schemer looks like: someone used to being the smartest person in the room. A manipulator. Someone who likes to wind people up just to see what they'll do. You meet his eyes without looking away, without flinching. Look through him like he's made of glass. People like him are easy to deal with when you want nothing at all.

He smiles again, and it's doesn't seem fake. "You know, you remind me of a kouhai I once had. He had Hana in his name too. Funny world, huh?"

You cross your arms and lean back. Stare up at the ceiling. You look back down. "I don't care." You say at last.

Imayoshi snickers. "Of course, of course. Just take it as the babbling of an old man. Can I call you Hana-chan, Hana-chan?" He doesn't wait for an answer, just reaches out and pats your shoulder in friendly way. "Aomine is pretty excited about this, huh? Don't disappoint him, Hana-chan. He gets all sulky and unmanageable. It upsets our best manager."

"You're pretty annoying." You say. You shift, knock his hand off your shoulder.

He laughs again. "I get that a lot. See you out there, Hana-chan."

You watch him walk away. A hint of ice blue out of the corner of his eye.

"...Was he flirting with me?" You ask. The perpetual smile made it kinda difficult to tell. You are not the best with emotions.

"I'm sure I don't know." Kuroko says. "It's not important. We have bigger things to worry about."

You sigh.

Across the court Aomine burns.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh i was crossing the street on Wednesday morning, and i kinda got hit by a car. i'm fine (nothing serious, just some bruises and bumps, i'm pretty sturdy) but if this chapter is terrible you can blame it on that. I'm kinda out of it.
> 
> tell me what you liked about this chapter


	23. XXIII

You see the moment Aomine realizes that you're not going on the court. The air grows thinner under the force of his rage, the referee falters, the teams hesitate. Kuroko is the only one who doesn't flinch.

But then, its not the first time he's dealt with Aomine like this. He's been at Aomine's side the whole time. He witnessed the whole break down from up close.

You tilt your head back against the bench and ignore Aomine's attention. Under it is a strange feeling of being stretched. Like a part of you is far away and the rest of you is here, in the middle of the court. Like you can't move forward or backward without a part of you snapping. Leaving something behind.

It might hurt.

You're almost tempted to go out just for that.

You look up and make eye contact with Aomine. His eyes are the same old blue, but you've never seen them so sharp.

His shoulders move up and down in a shrug and he glances at Kagami with dark intent.

Ah.

You follow his thoughts like a brightly lit path in the dark. He's never been hard to read, Aomine.

If he can't have you, he'll force your coaches hand. Another temper tantrum.

Aida lets out a deep sigh. "Alright. It's time to see what were' made of."

THe other freshmen exchange nervous but determined looks out of the corner on your eyes.

You say nothing.

The team's already lost.

THere's no way Kagami will beat him, and he's the only one on the team close to your level, close to  _Aomine's_  level.

You stretch out with a sigh. Lets see how long Aida lasts before she puts you in, injury or not.

(You're not going to volunteer. It's just a game and you don't have enough left in you to care.)

The toss up. Aomine and Kagami stading the middle of the court, eyes on each other, a rising tension in the stadium.

Serin is ready, wating.

Touou doesn't watch the ball.

They watch Aomine.

It's so familiar you almost feel the fabric of the teiko uniform around your legs, the solid warmth of Akashi at your side.

("Look." He said, pointing at the small forward on the other side. "He's the weakest link."

You make a disinterested noise, fiddling with the scope on your camera. You don't know why he's up here in the stands with you and not playing with the team, but you're not complaining. He at least is another distraction from how bored you are.

Kise's first time as the control tower should've been more interesting but you've been... drifting more and more lately.

There's a growing pit in your stomach that expands outward. When it swallows all of you, maybe you'll disappear.

Akashi isn't put off by your disinterest. He smiled. "You always want to go for the weakest link, Hana. A clean victory is always better than an honorable one."

How very Akashi of him.

You snorted. "Don't worry. I'm never in any danger of playing fair."

His smile grew. "I never doubted that. That's why we get along so well, I suppose.")

You shake your head, pushing red and the trace of melancholy away. Akashi is what he is now. There's not really any point in dwelling.

You do miss him sometimes.

More than Aomine, more that even Kise, you understood him the best. The unyielding pressure to be the best, to carry everything on his shoulders. The terrible grip of talent. People look at you and they expect the world.

Guess that's what being an ace means. Your teammates do the same thing on the court around you. You feel tired just looking at the faith in their faces.

How does Aomine not get exhausted carrying that sort of expectation around?

Kagami says something, too quiet to hear over the shift of the crowd - and Aomine laughs. It's not friendly.

"I'm the only one who can beat me." Aomine says. Teeth bared.

The whistle blows. The ball is tossed.

"Here we go." Aida says.

You fold over the bench, using one of the freshmen as a pillow. The timid freshman squeaks but you ignore him. You got more sleep than normal lately, but… you're still tired.

It's a bone deep thing, something that goes beyond the physical.

He shifts forward. You frown. He squeaks again, and stills.

Coach ignores all of you, focusing on the game. You can feel her intense concentration even with eyes closed.

The tension in the crowd can he felt the rising amount of murmurs. Under the crowd you hear the shift of Kagami's sneakers.

A squeak, and you see him leaning forward and you're my guy mind's eye. You know the way his hands flex, the way his eyes shine. Under the nerves, under the sleeplessness, Kagami was made for the moment just before the game starts.

Kagami was made for moments like this.

Must be exhausting, you think.

Coach leans forward and the bench shifts with her.

A whistle.

A shift. Feet leaving the ground.

Kagami jumps.

Aomine jumps.

You don't open your eyes, but you already know how this goes.

It only takes a second.

Coach startles and the bench shifts. She's like a rudder for the ship of seirin. Whatever she feels the rest of you, on purpose or not, always follow.

From the way she reacts, you know what the outcome is.

Aomine has the ball.

Hyuuga shouts, surprised, and you can see Aomine brushing past him without opening your eyes. It's familiar. At Teikou he was the catylyst, the match that set the other first string on fire. He burns the brightest. He burnt the fastest.

He was a streak of heat. Can't catch him. Can barely see him.

Would you be able to catch him?

The sound of a net. The crowd goes wild.

First point Touo.

You sigh. This is going to be a long game.

* * *

You're right. It's the same amount of time the whole way, but it feels like taffy being stretched out, like a rubber band pulled to tis' breaking point. You don't move from the bench, don't look up, just stay motionless.

By the end of the first half, Touo's score is in the double digits.

Kagami does his best, but Seirin is nearly twenty point behind and Kuroko's misdirection is starting to fade.

You're not surprised.

kagami comes off the court with a grim set to his mouth. He's frustrated. Nothing he does comes close to dealing with Aomine.

You frown. Something's... off.

Kagami's doing bad, sure, but you don't think that he was... quite this behind in the manga. A fuzzy memory, a littleral lifetime away is all you have to go off. There is a difference - and you know why that is.

kagami struggled against the generation of miracles. He tasted desperation, and sharpened like a blade against a whetstone.

With you there, why would he need to struggle?

Your mouth pulls down. Kagami never hurt you.

You don't like owing people, and this feels like a debt.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. he was difficult to deal with.

A long shadow falls over the bench and a ripple of quiet spreads out over the team. The freshman you're using as a pillow goes stiff as a board, petrified.

You sigh. Yeah, you were expecting it much earlier.

Maybe Aomine  _has_  matured a little.

"I didn't think you were a coward, Hana." There's a jeer in his voice.

You turn your head an open your eyes. He's barely broken a sweat. His face is twisted into a scowl.

Why keep playing if all it does is make him angry?

You swing your leg over the bench, sit up and shrug one shoulder. "Well you know. That's me. Just a ball of nerves."

Kagami snorts. "Yeah, okay."

Silence.

"How does it feel, to be at the top?" You ask. Mild curiosity.

Aomine doesn't look like he's having fun.

He looks down at the ball tucked under his arm. "Fucking boring."

Yeah. You know.

"You're not playing." And just like that, Aomine becomes serious. There's a crease between his eyes and you know how much this has been bothering him. "Why won't you just... one game. It's  _fun_. Why don't you ever want to play with me? Against me?"

The question is quiet.

You feel a heavy gaze on the back of your neck. You ignore it. Kuroko could go to hell. A heavy surge of something hot in your stomach.

You push yourself off the bench in one smooth movement. You don't owe him an explanation - you don't know if you even have the words. There's a part of you that echos with the world around you - Aomine puts so much of himself into this stupid game that you can't echo it back at him. If you put a fraction of yourself into it that he did, you'd have nothing left.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, there's a little jar full of the stuff that makes people tick. Maybe in other people it's a hourglass, something self contained, with the ability to flip itself over and reset.

In you, there's a crack running down the side, and everything that leaks out is lost. It feels like there's no reset button for you. No hourglass. No beginning again.

Everything you lose, you lose for real.

He doesn't know that. Kuroko doesn't know that. They don't understand.

Maybe no one does.

(You hope so.

You wouldn't wish this existence on anyone.)

You're still angry, and furious about that, because you know you're spreading a part of yourself on this moment you can't take back. Bitter because the anger feels hollow. Pointless.

"Why should I?" You ask.

Aomine blinks. "What?"

"Why the fuck," and your voice sounds far away, cold to your own ears. "Should I do that? "

It's like something inside you snaps.

Aomine flinches back from you.

Kuroko does too.

"Hana?" Kagami asks.

You take a deep breath. Hold it in, don't bother to hold onto the anger even if it's the strongest thing you've felt in... months. Years, maybe.

(That's a lie.

You remember the times when you've been awake for four days in a row and laying down on the kitchen floor for three of them, the utter surety that nothing you touch is real, that you've just dreamed up the world around you, that you're still in the dark. Still drifting. Maybe you're the only real person in the world. So desperately hungry for people that you've taken characters from some old story and breathed life into them.

Fear tastes sour at the back of your throat. Like old orange juice. Like being the second choice. What does it say about you, that if this is a dream that you're  _still_  alone?

It'd be so much easier to just... let go. Pick up something sharp and finally know. Are you dreaming? Is the world real?

Are you real?

Not knowing is the worst part.)

Aomine's scowl falters for a few seconds. "I... we were friends." His face takes on a mulish look. "No matter how much of an asshole you were, I considered us friends."

You're still. It akes a few moments for your brain to catch up to your ears.

Friends.

When were you ever friends? Why would he say that now? Wasn't he the one who ended that possibility?

You look at Kagami, and Kuroko standing behind him. Back to Aomine.

Just a bunch of kids. Inhale. Exhale.

You shake your head. "I'm going to get a drink."

* * *

You leave them there without a second word, and go out of the room. Too many people , too much - everything.

The world feels soft at the edges. You keep your eyes forward, ignore the way it makes the world blur. People become indistinct blurs. Your head hurts. Your ears ring. Your heart seems to have relocated from your chest to the pit of your throat and you can't swallow it down.

You go until the noise of the stadium becomes more bearable, less like a grater against your skin, and more like a cloth against your head. There's a vending machine tucked away in a small corner, out of eyeshot. You head there, grab a handful of coins and feed them into the machine without looking. You press a button randomly.

It's not that you're hungry. Karou made breakfast again this morning and a bento to boot. You don't have any appetite. The stuff you ate this morning is still enough to make you want to throw up.

You just need something to do with your hands. You pop the tab and stare at the can like you have no idea what to do with it. Lean against the wall, close your eyes. You're tired. Everything is so much effort. That burst of anger left you feeling like a ravine of a person: nothing much inside at all.

It's worse than being numb. At least then, you know you have the promise of the feeling returning eventually.

Emptiness is just that: Empty.

Maybe you've used up all the anger for the rest of your life.

God, you didn't miss being a teenager. Everything is so much sharper and up close when the hormones in your head are out of control. You can't take that much color and noise. You wish you were still five years old, before the world really mattered. Before Kise mattered.

Kid's got into trouble all the time. It would've been easy to… just  _stop_  back then. Kids got into trouble all the time.

Do you regret it?

Cold condensation slides down from the can of soda, down your wrist. You tilt your heads. "Were we... friends?" You ask out loud, talking to yourself. You got the impression that most of the Generation tolerated you because of Kise. Certainly none of them  _liked_  you and Kuroko and Murasakibara actively loathed you.

Were you friends? Would it have made a difference?

Does it matter?

You can't change the past.

You try to live in the moment - as much as someone like you can.

Plans for the future?

Unnecessary.

You refuse to live with regrets. Refuse to reflect, to treat the past as something real. You don't have time for that.

You slump onto a bench by the vending machine, taking up the whole thing with your sprawl. The plastic squeaks.

The sound of people is far away, and you unfocus your eyes, enter that fuzzy state where nothing touches you.

Sneakers on tile.

You tilt your head slightly. Green.

"...Midorima." You say, voice detached. It should be a question, but your voice stays flat. You feel flat. More grey than normal, even.

Midorima hovers over you like an awkward tree. He's dressed casual and uncomfortable with it, a pair of ridiculous glasses on his face. He jerks back. "How did you know it was me?"

Was he hiding it?

"You have green hair."

"That's what I told him." You glance behind him, to Takao. He's dressed casually too, and carrying a pair of drinks. Much more comfortable with it, he rolls his eyes, his own pair of sunglasses half way to falling off. "A pair of sunglasses is not a disguise, no matter how dashing they look. At least wear a hat or something, Shin-chan."

Midorima sniffed. "I don't have any hats, as I've told you." He pauses. "What do you mean by dashing?"

Takao grins. "You look like something out of a spy thriller Shin-chan. A very dashing spy; One who's not very good at his job, sure, but trying very hard."

"You- " Midorima's scowl almost outshone the red tint to his ears.

You watch the two of them devolve into a squabble, completely forgetting about you. It's loud, but not the kind of loud that grates. Just like hearing a pair of children laugh together. Almost calming. Like you could close your eyes and be sitting in the classroom, listening to Kagami and Kuroko talk.

You blink at that thought. When did that become relaxing for you?

It has a calm certainty to it, like you know what they will do, what they want. Both Kagami and Kuroko are the same type of people: single minded. Kuroko just hides it better than Kagami. He has just as much time in the court than Kagami.

"Why are you here?" You ask, push the through to the back of your mind.

The two boys froze in the middle of their fight and their heads wip around to look at you. Like you thought, they completely forgot you existed.

Midorima clears his throat and stands straighter. He looks very uncomfortable. "We parted last time on poor terms, and this is the only time we thought to find you without intruding at your school. I do not have your phone number so I can only -"

Takao rolls his eyes. "What Shin-chan means to say is that we're here to apologize for being dicks."

You stare.

The moment stretches out, and Takao's smile falters. Midorima seems to shrink into himself, looking smaller than you've ever seen him.

You open your mouth and then close it.

Apologize?

You cast your memory back, try to remember the last time anyone apologized to you for… anything, really. Nijimura, that day on the roof but that doesn't count. He's one of the weird people who can stand you.

"Why?" You ask, when the moment goes on for too long. That's the first question that comes to your mind.

Midorima pulls himself up. "The upperclassmen have been very unhappy with us."

Ah. You nod, because of course it's because the two of the are being forced. Everything is right with the world again.

It doesn't last. Takao kicks the ground from you again.

"What Shin-chan means to say is that we felt bad." Takao whispers, sotto voice. "He wanted to ask if we can please be friends again, Hana-chan?"

"Shut up Takao!" Midorima snapps, his ears the color of Akashi's hair.

"Shin-chan is really dishonest." He nudged Midnorim with his shoulder, a fond look on his face. Than he looks at you. "We came to apologize because we were dicks. Just because you won doesn't' make it right for use to take our frustration out on you. Right, Shin-chan?"

Midorima shifts away from him and glances at your face out of the corner of his eyes. Whatever he sees makes him stare down at his feet very hard. He takes a deep breath. "That is correct. I am… sorry. If you did not go all out in the match, that can only be attributed to my failure to make you do so. If I was more skilled, there would've been no question."

Takao nods. "We lost anyway, so it's like why would you even bother?"

"So." Midorima grimaces. "I wished to apologize. I should not have spoken like that to a friend. Even one as annoying as you can be."

"Shin-chan, you were doing so well." Takao complained. "Don't insult people you're apologizing to, it's -"

"Friends?" You blurt out without thinking. "We're not friends."

Midorima flinches.

Takao head whips around to stare at you.

You shrug. "We're not. Do you even like me, like as a person?"

He's never shown any sign of it. He treats you like a particularly annoying dog most of the time. Avoided you in school like you were carrying the plague, unless you were around Akashi.

Midormia flushes. "What?"

You raise the can above your head and watch the condensation drip. "I don't blame you. Most people don't."

Talent and a shitty personality do that. Unwilling to compromise. Unwilling to change.

"...Wow." Takao says. "You're kinda messed up, huh?"

You look at him out of the corner of your eye, a faint smile on your face. You don't have anything to say. Not like he's wrong.

"I do."

You stop. Look at Midorima. The tip of his ears are red again, but his gaze is unwavering. He shifts from one foot to the other.

"I would not associate with you if I did not - not find your company at least a bit agreeable." He huffs. "You do not think that the rest of the Generation felt the same? You were one of us."

You breath out. Every word out of his mouth is a stone piled on top of you because it feels like the truth. Like something you already know. Can you deny that a part of you feels the same? The part of you that you ignore because you didn't want to add to the number of people who'd miss you, when you ran out of reasons to keep going.

You can feel and end coming.

Why couldn't the generation be so like the rest of the world and resent you? Why care about you at all? it wasn't your sterling personality, or your people skills.

And yet…

Think about aomine. Think about Momoi, biting her lip, worried. Midorima's not lying. You feels something in her just - give in. Sigh. Close your eyes.

When you open them, your decision is already made. You push yourself up, and feel almost calm.

Friends, huh?

"Where are you going?" Midorima asks.

You crush the can in one hand, toss it over your shoulder. It hits the rim of the garbage can with a clang and drops in. "I have a game to play, Shin-chan."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey i'm back. there will be two chapters this week to make up for missing the last update.
> 
> i was just very unmotivated and dealing with assholes spamming my comments with weird links. Super annoying but i fixed it in the end. this chapter was a bitch and a half to write. make me feel better and tell me what you liked about it.


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